


Never A Breath You Can Afford To Waste

by heyjupiter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Domestic Fluff, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Minor Carol Danvers/James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Minor Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanov, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:48:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 102,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26090647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjupiter/pseuds/heyjupiter
Summary: After abruptly trying to close down Stark Industries' weapons division, Tony Stark has been ousted as CEO by the company's board of directors and is attempting to cool his heels and rehabilitate his image with a cushy one-year appointment as a guest lecturer in engineering at Shield University. Dr. Bruce Banner also has a one-year appointment at Shield, but his is a lowly adjunct instructor position that doesn't pay enough to meet the high cost of living in Southern California.Bruce is trying desperately to keep anyone from finding out he's living in his car, while Tony is desperately trying to ask Bruce out and can't figure out why he won't accept. But when Bruce gets pneumonia, things change. Bruce has to trust Tony with his secret, Tony has to play nursemaid, and they both have to learn how to take care of each other—and still get their final grades turned in on time.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Tony Stark
Comments: 275
Kudos: 175
Collections: Bruce Banner Bingo 2019





	1. Orientation

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to both volunteerfd and xxx_cat_xxx for their beta reading, hand-holding, and cheerleading as I worked on this! This work is completed and I'll be posting a chapter a day (Monday-Friday) until it's all up. 
> 
> I want to note that, if you're used to reading my stuff, this is both a little bit darker and a little bit sexier than what I usually write. (I blame quarantine.) It's still not really out of line with Bruce's comics canon backstory, but I usually gloss over it a little bit more than I am here. 
> 
> This is also for the "holding hands" square on my [Bruce Banner Bingo card](https://twentyghosts.tumblr.com/brucebingo). It's also inspired by (and dedicated to) volunteerfd's [Tumblr post about how her ideal college AU is not a professor/student relationship but rather a relationship between a professor who wears jeans and a professor who wears khakis](https://godlessondheimite.tumblr.com/post/618055207273840640/one-is-a-professor-who-wears-khakis-the-other-is-a).
> 
> The title is from the Bruce Cockburn song ["Lovers in a Dangerous Time"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7IX4gWkFqvU), though I should add that this is definitively set in an alternate timeline where there's no pandemic. Still—it's a nice line.

Bruce took one last critical eye to his appearance in the bathroom mirror. He thought his brown suit and purple shirt looked okay, and he'd gotten his curly hair reasonably under control. He discreetly sniffed his armpits and felt satisfied with the results. He didn't think anyone could tell that he'd slept in his car for the past week. He took a deep breath, popped a mint in his mouth, and headed for the STEM faculty welcome luncheon.

He always hated these kinds of things, but he knew attendance was mandatory and he didn't want to start the school year at a new institution with a bad reputation. Plus: free lunch. 

Bruce made his way to the elegant hall, where he carefully took his printed name tag from the check-in desk. Based on the number of missing stickers, he was one of the last to arrive. He must have spent longer freaking out in the bathroom than he'd thought. But it was fine, he wasn't the very last to arrive, and the speakers hadn't started yet. He cast his eyes around the room, hoping to spot one of the few people he already knew at Shield University. But he saw no sign of his office neighbor, Jane, and he didn't think his TAs were even invited. 

In the absence of friendly faces, he sighed and went for the next best thing, the food table. It was pretty picked over, and he didn't see any vegetarian options. Why had there been a vegetarian option on the RSVP form if they weren't going to do anything about it? He took an apple, a bag of chips, and a cup of coffee and went to find someplace to sit. Making his way to the corner of the room, he found the last empty table and sat down with relief.

His relief was short-lived. A voice behind him said, "Dr. Banner, I've been looking for you! Is this seat taken?" Without waiting for an answer, the person sat down next to him. Bruce's stomach clenched when he saw that the person was Tony Stark.

Bruce had read that Tony Stark would be teaching at Shield University this year, but he didn't think he'd ever have to meet the guy. Bruce knew the type—flashy rockstar lecturers whose name attracted a lot of buzz for the university, which meant they didn't actually have to do the work. Which meant somebody _else_ had to do it. And Stark was undoubtedly being paid more than Bruce, when he didn't even need the money. Sure, the guy had stepped down as CEO of his family's weapons company, but he undoubtedly still had more money in stock options than Bruce would ever see in his lifetime.

And, as Bruce looked over at Tony, he saw a hummus wrap on Tony's plate. Bruce seethed, but tried to keep it together. It wouldn't do to make an enemy on his first official day. He forced a smile and accepted Tony's handshake, and he managed not to roll his eyes at the fact that Tony had written "YOU KNOW WHO I AM" over his pre-printed nametag. Tony was right, of course, Bruce did know who he was, but...still. It was showy. And the blazer over jeans and T-shirt look? The one that desperately said, "I'm not trying too hard?" Of course, it did look good on Tony, but would it have killed the guy to try a little bit, at least once?

"Do you know if they're going to make us do icebreaker 'get to know you' type games?" Tony asked. "Because I have a doctor's note that says I don't have to do that stuff."

Bruce laughed in spite of himself. "Really? Think I could get a referral?"

"Sure, give me your number," Tony said. Bruce blinked and thought about explaining that he'd been joking, but then he looked at Tony's face and saw humor there. He decided to play along.

"Sure," Bruce said. He dug in his messenger bag and pulled out one of his new cards. Bruce Banner, Adjunct Assistant Professor of Physics. It was pretty much the lowest rank he could have without being a literal grad student, but it was something. And it hadn't required that he sell out and take Department of Defense money.

Tony took the card, nodded, and slipped it into his wallet. He unwrapped his hummus wrap and took a bite. As he chewed, he looked at Bruce's plate and frowned. "Were they out of sandwiches or something? You want half of mine?"

"Oh, no thanks," Bruce said. He took a bite out of his apple.

"This thing's probably going to be long. You should keep your strength up." Tony abruptly stood up and went over to the food table, before Bruce could understand what was happening, Tony was back and handed Bruce a wrapped club sandwich.

Bruce sighed and put the sandwich on his plate. "Thanks," he said flatly, and took another bite out of his apple.

"Are you on a diet or something?"

"Or something."

"I think they had turkey sandwiches too…"

"I'm vegetarian," Bruce finally admitted. He didn't really like to talk about his dietary preferences in general—he wasn't there to proselytize, but meat-eaters could be so defensive about the very idea that someone might not want to eat something from the factory farm system! And Tony Stark definitely seemed like the kind of guy who'd roll his eyes at a vegetarian diet. 

But Tony just said, "Oh." Then he looked down at his plate. "Shit, did I take your sandwich?"

Bruce shrugged. "It didn't have my name on it."

Tony unwrapped a plastic butter knife and hacked away at the end of the hummus wrap he'd bitten. After he'd cut away that part, he put the remaining wrap on Bruce's plate and took the club sandwich back. "You should have said," Tony chided.

"It's not a big deal."

"You should speak up for yourself."

Bruce took a bite of the hummus wrap to avoid answering. He didn't need life advice from Tony Stark. Or maybe he did need it, but he didn't want it. While Bruce was chewing, a few other latecomers joined their table. They were clearly awestruck by Tony and managed to deflect attention from Bruce by asking Tony questions about his past inventions and future plans. Tony seemed to be enjoying the attention, which lasted until Dean Fury began his opening remarks, which were abrupt.

Then, to Bruce's utter betrayal, his new friend Jane stood up and announced an icebreaker activity. "I know, I know," she said. "But we're not doing Get To Know You bingo cards or anything. Just turn to the person next to you and introduce yourself, and say something you're looking forward to in the coming school year."

Tony immediately leaned in to Bruce, offering his hand. "Hi, I'm Tony."

Bruce blinked. He took Tony's hand but said, "I know," tilting his head toward Tony's nametag.

Tony glanced down at his nametag and grimaced. "Right. Look, I told you I was allergic to this kind of thing, right?"

"That sounds serious. Should I call your doctor?"

"I think I'll live. But seriously, can we get out of here?"

Bruce blinked at the use of "we," but said, "I think they were going to pass out the academic honesty pledges at the end of this."

"Okay?"

"Which we have to sign. It's their way of keeping us hostage."

Tony gave an exaggerated sigh. "Like _that's_ the best use of time for some of the smartest people on Earth." He made a vague hand gesture that seemed to incorporate Bruce.

Bruce didn't know how to respond, so he shrugged and took a sip of coffee. It was true that Bruce hated this sort of event, but they were just sort of a necessary evil of academia. No sense in dwelling on things he couldn't change, and mandatory luncheons and pointless paperwork definitely fell under that category.

Besides, Bruce was smart enough, but if he was one of the smartest people on Earth, why was he a lowly adjunct professor at his fifth university in five years? If he was really that smart, surely by now he would have figured out how to shut up and play nice long enough to get tenure, instead of year after year of hustling to find a new appointment after his one-year contract was not chosen for renewal.

Or he could have opted out of the academic rat race altogether and taken that Department of Defense contract. He might have lost his moral high ground, but he might have gained a job that paid him well enough to one day own a house. At the very least, to rent an apartment, even in Southern California.

But he hadn't done that, and so he was here at Shield University, sitting next to someone whose stock options probably made more money in a day than Bruce made in a year.

Oblivious to Bruce's mental spiral, Tony asked, "Hey, do you play Tetris?"

"What?"

"The game? You know, making lines? Catchy theme song?" Tony hummed the Tetris theme song.

"Oh! Uh, sure, yeah, I've played it."

"Are you on the app?"

"No?"

"Give me your cell number."

Bewildered, Bruce obeyed, Tony tapped away at his phone, and Bruce's phone lit up with a new message prompting him to download a Tetris Battle app.

Bruce glanced around, but they were in the furthest corner of the room. No authority figures could see them. He gave a small smile and downloaded the game, then immediately accepted Tony's in-game friend request. 

"It helps me focus," Tony said. "When my mind is focused on the Tetris, it frees up some secret back part of my brain for problem solving."

Bruce shook his head, but he had to admit that he had more fun silently competing with Tony at Tetris than he would have listening to the guest lecturer talk about inequity in STEM fields. (It wasn't that Bruce didn't think the speaker was important; it was just that he already agreed.)

Unfortunately, they were still playing when Jane walked around to distribute the academic honesty pledges. "Bruce!" she scolded. "Were you even listening?"

"Of course," Bruce said, hoping to arrange his features into an innocent appearance. "I agree, the gender gap in STEM professions _is_ shocking and I hope our work here can help close it."

She sighed. "Whatever, just sign the thing." He signed it and handed it back to her, hoping he hadn't damaged Jane's opinion of him too much. At this point, he didn't expect to get tenure or anything, but he hoped to at least finish the school year without getting fired. Bruce noticed that she didn't say a word to Tony, but that kind of treatment was to be expected for an academic rock star. _Must be nice,_ Bruce thought.

After turning in his signed pledge, Bruce packed up his bag and stood from the table. He was hoping to swing by the food table and see if he could snag any leftovers, but Tony followed behind him. "Hey, Banner, where are you going?" Tony asked. Bruce could just sense eyes on both of them, which was the last thing Bruce wanted, especially when he'd been hoping to scavenge leftovers on his way out like a grad student.

"Just back to my office," he said. "Making sure everything's ready for tomorrow."

Tony nodded. "Right. Yes. Tomorrow. Well, I'll see you around, then?"

"Sure," Bruce agreed. He hesitated for an awkward moment where he wasn't sure if they were going to shake hands or not; they finally did, but it had a weird energy and Bruce was glad to finally get out of the hall and back down to his cramped basement office. He made sure his syllabi were in perfect shape before printing them out and posting them online. He looked over his class list and reached out to any students with names he wasn't sure how to pronounce, asking them for tips. He sent out his general "welcome" emails to his classes, letting them know what to expect. He read the school's emergency procedures, which included a section on earthquakes—something that was slightly worrying to his Midwestern self.

After he felt that he'd done what he could do to prepare for the first week of classes, he walked a few blocks off campus to the small studio where, through a friend of a friend, he'd managed to land a part-time gig teaching yoga and meditation classes. It was nice that his therapy homework had turned into a side hustle, especially one that provided access to a locker room. He taught his Calming Evening Flow class, showered at the studio, and went back to campus to eat a cup of noodles in his office. He embarked on his daily perfunctory search through Craigslist to find any kind of reasonably priced housing in a 30-mile radius of campus, scrolling until he could hear the nighttime janitor start his rounds, and at which point Bruce packed up and went out to his car. It was an old Subaru hatchback, and he'd taken out the back row of seats. He could spread out a camping pad and a sleeping bag with relative comfort. 

Taking a job in Southern California meant that housing prices were ridiculous, but at least the weather was nice. He put up sun shields for privacy, kept the windows cracked for air circulation, and hoped that nobody would hassle him while he slept. Above all, he hoped that he could find either a miraculous tenure track job posting or an equally-miraculous housing offer before winter set in.


	2. Introduction to Pedagogy

Tony took a deep breath and looked at himself in his front-facing camera of his phone. He looked good. Not like a fraud at all.

He couldn't believe he'd let Pepper convince him to take this teaching job. At first it had seemed like a good idea, a way for Tony to stay occupied while figuring out what to do over the loss of his family company. He didn't need the money, exactly—even without his income as CEO he still owned a large share of Stark Industries stocks. (Although without Tony's input, he wasn't sure how much longer SI stock would be worth much. Still, he'd made some other investments. He'd be fine, financially. It was just the _principle_ of the thing. The company was called _Stark_ Industries. He was a Stark—the last surviving Stark. He should be in charge of it.) 

But it had also been forcefully suggested to him that perhaps Tony needed something to keep him distracted, a nice low stakes gig while he "recovered" from the "trauma" he'd experienced on his trip to Afghanistan last year. Plus, he could remove himself slightly from the public eye, maybe improve his eccentric playboy reputation. Maybe the "trauma" was what made him agree to this dumb idea. 

Tony wasn't a teacher. He'd never even really liked school, not even when he'd made it to MIT, an institution whose unconventional programs had actually challenged his impressive intellect. He liked learning, and knowing things, but he didn't like the structure of _classes_. And now he was supposed to be in charge of them? At a school whose students lacked the intellectual rigor of MIT students or even (ugh) Harvard?

Pepper said that Tony was being a snob, and she was probably right. Shield University was a perfectly adequate school, one of the better private schools on the West Coast, really, with a shiny new science center and small class sizes. But for Tony its primary attraction was its close proximity to his Malibu home. He could get in and out easily, without having to spend a ton of time on campus. He was only teaching two classes, and they were both on Tuesdays and Thursdays. 

His contract was only for a year, and when that was up, surely he would have figured out a way to get control of his family company back from that ruthless monster Stane, who'd swooped in with his vicious rumors about Tony's mental health and persuaded the board to remove him as CEO just because Tony had wanted to stop making weapons. But Tony would find a way to get back in there and make things right. He had to.

And maybe a year at Shield University wouldn't be completely terrible. He'd looked into his new colleagues and found most of them to be pedestrian thinkers, not worth Tony's time. One of the few exceptions was Bruce Banner, whose PhD thesis on applications of gamma radiation had been _fascinating_ (after Tony had gone back and taught himself enough background information about gamma radiation to understand the ideas Banner was exploring). He'd gotten a bit of a brain crush on the guy just from reading his research, and it had threatened to spill into an actual crush after he'd met the guy and found him to be an adorably awkward absentminded professor type. And Tony had gotten his number, a definite bright spot to an otherwise bleak afternoon.

But before he could ask Bruce out, he was going to have to make it through his first day of teaching class. The dean, Nick Fury, had brusquely assured Tony that he wouldn't really have to do much, his name would attract students and his TA would do the work. Tony just had to show up. And it was true that his TAs, Peter Parker and Riri Williams, seemed extremely competent. That was reassuring, but Tony didn't want to rely on them alone. His name was on the top of the syllabus (even if somebody else in the engineering department had done most of the work on it), and besides, if Tony fucked this up, he was the one whose face would be in the embarrassing videos students could leak to TMZ. A scandal like that would _not_ help Tony's image rehabilitation campaign.

Why did he think of that? He shouldn't think about that. What was it they said? "Those who can't do, teach"? Well, Tony could _do_. He was an extremely skilled doer. So he could teach. It would be fine.

He took another sip of coffee and went off to his first day of class. He was fashionably late, as was his custom. When he walked in, Peter was saying, "— _isn't_ cancelled if the professor is ten minutes late, and I'm sure—oh, Professor Stark! You're here!"

Tony took another sip of coffee. "Hey, everyone. Sorry, not really used to early mornings."

"It's 10AM," a student grumbled.

"Exactly," Tony said. "Anyway, welcome to, uh, Seminar in Advanced Electrical Engineering Concepts. You already know who I am, and I'm guessing Peter already took attendance?"

"Yes, everyone's here, Professor Stark."

"Great." Tony took another sip of coffee and looked down at his notes. "So, uh, this class is centered around a semester-long capstone project, but first we need to make sure everyone has a foundation in the basic concepts." He yawned. "So we'll start with a quiz just to see where everyone's at." He nodded at Peter, who scurried to hand out Scantron sheets and questions.

Tony sat down at his desk and drank more coffee while he read his email. The quiz was short, only five questions, and he expected students to be able to complete it in about ten minutes. But much more time passed. 

Peter came up to him and whispered, "Um, Professor Stark, are you sure these are the right questions?"

Tony glanced at the sheet Peter was holding. "Yeah, why?"

"It's just...these are really hard, actually? For undergraduates?"

Tony furrowed his brow. "Really? I thought this was an advanced class."

"I mean, it is...but...advanced _undergrads_ ," Peter stressed.

"Hmm." Tony looked at the questions. He was pretty sure he could have aced this quiz when he was twelve, but...well, he _was_ exceptional. He stood up in front of the class. "Hey. Raise your hand if you think this quiz is too hard."

Twenty pairs of eyes looked up at him warily. "It's not a trick," he said. "I really want to know." A few tentative hands went up, then a few more, and eventually the whole class had their hands up. "Hmm. Sorry. I, uh...why don't you go ahead and pass them in, but I won't count them for your grade. I'll just, uh, why don't we work through the first problem together?" He fired up the smart board and asked for a volunteer to come up to work on the problem. Twenty panicked faces all avoided eye contact. Tony sighed. "Okay, fine, I'll do it myself." He talked them through it. "Easy, right? Okay, who wants to do the next one?"

Again, no hands. Peter said, "Um, that was...kind of fast. I can do the next one?"

"Uh...sure, go nuts." Tony sat back down and watched as Peter explained the problem in agonizing detail. Tony was tempted to step in and tell him to stop dumbing it down, but then he looked out at his class and saw that they seemed engaged for the first time. _Fuck_. Tony was...bad at this. He wasn't used to having that feeling.

After Peter finished talking the class through the rest of Tony's quiz, Tony stood up and said, "Thanks, Peter. Uh, any questions?" Heads shook and Tony said, "Right. Well, let's end class a little early today, then. Next time we'll start talking about your capstone projects. And, uh, I don't know, there's probably reading? I'm sure it's on the syllabus."

His students practically fled, and Tony wanted to crawl under his desk and have a drink. Instead, he forced a smile and told Peter, "Hey, you did a great job today."

"Oh! Uh, thanks, Professor Stark. Do you want me to, um, grade those quizzes?"

"Oh...yeah. I guess I won't count them for a grade but I want to see if anybody got any of it."

"You got it. I'll put the results in the online portal. Anything else you need?"

 _A drink._ "No, thanks, you were great."

Peter bit his lip. "Okay. Uh, thanks. Bye."

After Peter left, Tony went back to his ugly office and shut the door. He buried his face in his hands for a moment and looked at his phone. It was a little after noon. His other class of the day started at 3pm. On a desperate whim, he texted Bruce Banner: _Hey, can I ask you a favor?_

A reply came almost immediately: _You want me to let you win at Tetris?_

Tony snorted. _Please. I've been letting you win. Are you free right now? Can I take you to lunch and pick your brain?_

As soon as he sent it, Tony winced. He didn't know what had come over him—he _hated_ it when people requested to "pick his brain." They almost always meant they wanted money for a start-up, or just to steal Tony's ideas. But Tony meant it.

But Bruce wrote back, _My next class is at 1. Want to meet at the taco truck?_

Tony frowned. _Where?_

Bruce replied, _Oh...I'll meet you in the East Lobby and we can walk over together?_

 _Sounds good. Thanks!_ Tony checked his hair again and hurried down to the lobby, trying to evade eye contact with students. He was so focused on that task that he missed seeing Bruce until the other man sidled up to him and said, "Hey, ready for lunch?"

Tony snapped his head up and smiled. "Yes. Lead the way. Thanks for meeting me."

Bruce gave a cute little half-shrug and said, "No problem. Beats ramen at my desk."

There was a line at the taco truck, and while they waited, Bruce asked, "So, what's up?"

"Oh, well, not much, except, I just wanted to ask...how do you _teach a class_?" Tony asked, his voice low.

Bruce laughed, then trailed off when Tony was quiet. "Seriously?"

"I thought it would be easy but it is...not."

Bruce turned a disbelieving face on Tony, but they made it to the front of the line before he could respond. They ordered tacos and horchata-iced coffees—Tony insisted on paying and Bruce didn't argue—and when their order came up they found a nearby bench. Bruce had the foresight to grab a handful of napkins, which he shared with Tony while they ate their delicious but messy lunch.

"No offense, but why are you asking me? I teach physics, isn't there another engineering professor you could talk to? Or Dean Fury?"

"Dean Fury told me not to worry, I could just have my TAs do the work."

Bruce shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, I think that's what a lot of the flashy guest lecturers tend to do."

"Well—I don't want to do that!"

"Oh."

"Look, I—I don't know, I got kind of pressured into taking this job, and—but, since I'm here, I _do_ want to do a good job. And I think you're...I read your CV, I know you graduated early like I did, and I—I don't understand how to do things at their level. And I figured, you seem like you're as smart as me, but you've been teaching for longer, so maybe you know how to dumb things down?"

A complicated series of emotions crossed Bruce's face. Finally, he said, "I don't think _dumb things down_ is necessarily the right mindset. Our students aren't dumb. They're learning. You have to really know what the core concepts are to be able to explain them. You have to provide scaffolding for your students as you build their knowledge."

"I know what the core concepts are!"

Bruce nodded. "Well...start there." Tony blinked. Bruce sighed. "Look, I'm not an education professor. I don't know how to teach you how to teach. But, uh, you can sit in on my Physics 101 class this afternoon if you want?"

"Yes! That would be great."

Bruce glanced at his phone. "Okay. We'd better get going. And, uh, just...please don't be too distracting?"

Tony mimed zipping his lips. Bruce laughed and shook his head, a disbelieving expression on his face. But he stood up from the bench and said, "C'mon, I have to stop by my office first." He led Tony back into the science center and down into its labyrinthine basement, where he first stopped in a lounge to wash his hands, as well as to rinse out his plastic cup and put it in the recycling bin. Tony followed suit, then followed Bruce to a grim, tiny basement office. "I'll just be a second," Bruce said, not exactly inviting Tony in. Tony glanced in from the doorway and guiltily thought about how much nicer his office here was—though it still paled in comparison to his old corner office at SI. 

Tony hung around in the hallway, studying the small bulletin board outside Bruce's office door. The boards seemed to come standard with every office, and most professors seemed to decorate them in some way. Tony's was still empty. Bruce's board included a copy of his schedule—Tony noticed that Bruce was teaching four classes this semester—as well as a rainbow "Safe Space" sign and a "Black Lives Matter" button. Bruce came back out of his office and led Tony to a big classroom.

A young Asian-American kid was already inside the classroom, writing something on the white board. "Hey, Amadeus," Bruce said. The kid turned around and did a small double-take at seeing Tony. "Tony, this is one of my TAs, Amadeus Cho. Amadeus, this is Tony, he's going to be observing today."

"Wow, no pressure or anything, right?" Amadeus said with a laugh. 

"Right," Tony agreed. He offered his hand to Amadeus to shake. "Seriously, I'm new to teaching and I just want to see how a pro does it."

"If you wouldn't mind sitting in the back, Tony?" Bruce asked politely.

"Oh, uh, sure." Tony obligingly folded himself into an uncomfortable plastic chair with the desk attached. Surely there was a better design possible for these chairs? He mentally reviewed a few possibilities, but snapped to attention as students trickled in. He watched as Bruce greeted them by name. Wasn't it the first day of class? Had he had these kids over the summer or something?

After all of the students were settled, Bruce stood up at the front of the class. He introduced himself, went over class policies, and reminded his students to let him know if they needed any ADA accommodations. Then he held up a bright pink bouncy ball and asked, "Does anyone know what this ball has in common with this class?"

The class was silent, and based on this morning's experience, Tony could imagine the blank stares Bruce was receiving. After a beat, Bruce grinned and bounced the ball against the floor. "You both have a lot of potential!" Some students laughed, but not all. "For five points of extra credit, can someone explain my bad joke to the rest of the class? Erica? I saw you laughing."

Erica said, "Uh...the ball had potential energy, and when you threw it it became kinetic energy? And you're saying we have potential, like...we can learn things?"

"Exactly. Thank you, Erica." Bruce bounced the ball a few more times. "So, I know some of you are just here to get your gen ed science requirement out of the way, and I get it. I know that not all of you will pursue a career in the sciences, but if you can learn these fundamentals they can really reshape your understanding of the world we live in. I really am looking forward to getting to unpack the secrets of the universe with you this semester."

 _What a dork_ , Tony thought, but he couldn't stop smiling. Bruce was actually a better teacher than Tony had thought he'd be, based on his awkward demeanor in one-on-one situations. Professor Banner seemed much more comfortable in his skin than civilian Bruce, somehow. He waxed poetic about the beauty of physics in between explaining that their next class meeting would be their first laboratory session. He went over expectations and regulations, expressing a lot of empathy for the students and their myriad struggles. Then he cleared his throat and said, "Also, the government says I have to make you guys watch this video. I know it's cheesy but it's kind of important, so, try to wait until after class to make fun of it. Amadeus, you got the video ready?"

The vintage lab safety video popped up on the screen. Some students snickered at the over-the-top acting as young scientists demonstrated good and bad lab techniques. Tony laughed too, until one hapless young scientist demonstrated what might go wrong if one didn't wear properly tinted safety glasses when working with laser technology, illustrated with an absolutely terrible CGI effect. Suddenly, Tony found himself back in Afghanistan, blinking against the sunlight as his vision slowly came back after the bright flash of the IED explosive. Tony slipped his sunglasses out of his pocket and put them over his eyes. He took deep breaths, but there didn't seem to be enough air in the room. He had to get out of there.

Now happy to be in the back of the room, Tony slipped out the back door. He went back to his office, where he locked the door and laid down on the floor, panting. He had to get his shit together before his 3PM class. He thought about texting Rhodey, but he hated to do that—Rhodey had suffered worse than Tony had in Afghanistan. He'd feel ridiculous saying, "I saw a science safety video made 30 years ago and got scared."

Instead, he pulled up Tetris and played a few solo games. He wished he could invite Bruce to join him, but Bruce was still teaching his class—and probably thinking Tony was a jerk for running out. Tony sighed and played another game. He was scoring badly, but it was serving to distract him. He found that he could breathe better, that he felt safe again. Still, he didn't sit up until he heard a knock on his office door.

"Professor Stark?" he heard a woman's voice call. He checked the time and scrambled to his feet. He pulled open the door to see his other TA standing in the doorway with a disapproving look on her face. "Hey, Riri."

"You know you have class in ten minutes, right?" she asked.

"Oh, uh...I lost track of time."

She rolled her eyes. "You know students are really hyped to take your robotics seminar, right? Like, it was mad competitive to get in."

"Uh huh."

"So...you should show up."

"Yeah, totally, I was planning on it." She stared at him, and he said, "Okay, so, let's go?"

He followed her down to the robotics lab, and he tried his best to follow Bruce's lead. He took roll, tried to remember students' names, and went over his class policies. Then he made a fatal error and asked, "Any questions?"

Hands went up. "Uh, you in the front row."

"Is it true that you went twelve for twelve with last year's Maxim cover models?" asked a bro-y young man.

Tony grimaced. He knew he'd probably brought this on himself for relishing in those rumors in the past, but now? Here? In front of a genius teenage girl who already seemed to be annoyed with him? He tried to sound stern as he said, "Uh—that is irrelevant. And inappropriate. Any questions related to the _class_?"

He called on a young woman who asked, "Why is it that you're here in a classroom instead of in jail for war crimes?"

"Uh...wow," Tony said. "I'm here because I know a lot about robotics, and I thought you all wanted to learn about robotics? If that's...not the case, there's still time to drop the class." He knew that was true because several of his morning students had already dropped his electrical engineering class. Of course, they'd been immediately replaced by students on the class's long waiting list, but still. He cleared his throat and said, "Also, for the record, I'm here because I wanted to _stop_ making weapons?"

"After decades of profiting from them," the student mumbled, but she stayed put.

"Okay. Well, if anyone has any more questions or wild accusations, I guess let's keep those to email. _Anyway_..." Tony took a deep breath and managed to get the class back on track. He thought it went pretty well, all things considered. Still, by the end of the 90-minute class session, he felt wrung out and exhausted. He couldn't wait to get home, have a drink, and put this shitty day behind him.

But on his way to his car, he noticed a familiar curly head of hair. Bruce was sitting cross-legged on a bench under a tree, his eyes shut and a peaceful look on his face.

Tony sat down next to him and cleared his throat. Bruce's eyes flew open and he turned to Tony with a start. His face relaxed marginally as he recognized Tony. "Oh. Hey."

"Hey. Sorry if I scared you. And sorry for running out on your class."

Bruce blinked. "Oh. No problem, I figured you wanted to get out before students mobbed you after class. You're a pretty popular guy."

"Yes. Right," Tony said, deciding not to mention his actual reason for bailing. "Anyway, just wanted to say thanks for letting me see your class. You're a great teacher. I'll let you get back to your nap."

"Oh—no, I was just getting some fresh air and meditating a little," Bruce replied, blushing and not acknowledging the compliment.

"Wow, a vegetarian who meditates? And I thought you were new to California."

Bruce shrugged and gave a half-smile, looking uncomfortable. 

"Okay. Well, like I said, I'll let you get back to that, then. But maybe we could do this again?"

His smile more sincere now, Bruce said, "Sure. Tetris loser buys tacos next time?"

Tony smiled back. "You're on." He waved goodbye, all at once feeling much more optimistic about the coming school year.


	3. Meditation & Well-Being

"Hey, Dr. Banner, I just uploaded the grades from last week's problem sets, do you need anything else?"

Bruce looked up at Amadeus. "Oh, no thanks, I'm all set. See you in class this afternoon."

"Are you coming to the Lunch and Learn today with Dr. Cho?"

"Oh, was that today? No, I have another thing. But I want to hear about it, okay? I'm sure it'll be great, Helen's incredible."

"Cool," Amadeus said agreeably. He went off, leaving Bruce with a moment to think about how weird it was that he was having lunch with Tony Stark again. It had been a week since their trip to the taco truck. Bruce had seen Tony around campus since then, but he had been surprised to get Tony's text that morning inviting him to lunch again. He'd figured a week would have been more than enough time for Tony to have figured out that there were much bigger fish on campus than Bruce.

Bruce had a few more minutes before meeting with Tony, so he logged on to look at the grades Amadeus had just uploaded. He was happy to see progress, and startled beyond measure when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He flinched and gasped, and felt relief and embarrassment when he saw that it was Tony. Fifteen years of therapy hadn't completely cured his fight-or-flight response.

Tony raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you. The door was open."

"Yeah, no...sorry, I'm just...a little jumpy sometimes," Bruce explained weakly.

"Noted." Tony shoved his hands in the pockets of his perfectly-fitting, artfully-distressed jeans. "You ready for lunch?"

"Yep!" Bruce caught his breath and stood up from his desk.

"Oh, don't tell me you're some kind of Steve Jobs acolyte."

"What? It's a school-issued computer."

"No, I meant, wearing the same outfit every day?"

Bruce looked down at his brown suit and purple shirt and hoped he wasn't blushing. "Oh, no, just...just in kind of a fashion rut, I guess." He should probably swing by Goodwill and get a few more things to add to his rotation. Meanwhile, Tony was still wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but it was definitely a different T-shirt, one with cute cartoon atoms on it. 

"Oh. Well, at least it's a good-looking rut," Tony said casually, and now Bruce was _really_ afraid he'd blush. He bent down and busied himself with his messenger bag as Tony asked, "You up for tacos again or something else?"

"Tacos are always good."

They walked over to the taco truck and ordered. When Tony pulled out his wallet to pay, Bruce elbowed him. "Hey, actually, I think I lost our last Tetris match, so they're on me."

"Oh, did you? I didn't notice," Tony said coyly. 

Bruce rolled his eyes and paid. He was glad Tony hadn't made a fuss about it. Obviously Tony had a lot more money than Bruce did, but Bruce could afford tacos. And he wanted to keep his word about their friendly bet.

After they found a spot to sit with their tacos, Bruce asked, "So how was your first week teaching?"

Tony made a face. "To be honest, way harder than I expected."

Bruce nodded sympathetically. "Teaching really is its own skill set, aside from knowing your subject material. You'll get better with time."

"I'm not used to needing time to get better at things," Tony said with a straightforward tone.

Bruce grinned. "I'm sure you'll get the hang of it in another week or two."

"God, I hope so. Hey, can I ask you a question?" His mouth full, Bruce made a _go on_ gesture. Tony said, "Uh, how did you learn all of your students' names already?"

Bruce laughed. "I studied their pictures in the online portal."

"Oh. Duh. Were we supposed to do that?"

"It's not department policy or something. It's just something I try to do."

"That's...really nice of you."

"It's just...you know, I've always loved science, ever since I was a little kid I was drawn to it, I had so many questions about the world. I bet you were the same way." Tony nodded, and Bruce continued. "A lot of kids feel that way when they're younger, but then when they get older, a lot of them start to think that the STEM fields aren't for them. Not if they don't look like you and me. So I try really hard to make sure that all of my students know that they're welcome, that physics is for them. And learning their names, and how to pronounce them correctly, is just an easy little way to show that."

Bruce was a teacher, he was used to seeing the look on someone's face when a new idea _clicked_ into place for them. He loved that look, and he saw it on Tony's face just then.

"Oh my god," Tony said. "I'm...such an asshole."

Bruce snorted. "No, you're not." He was surprised to realize that he meant it. He'd only known Tony Stark for a week, but it was already enough time to know that Tony wasn't much like his flashy public persona. The guy Bruce had seen on magazine covers and late night interviews wouldn't have made that face, wouldn't have acknowledged that he could still learn new things.

"I just never thought about it like that," Tony said plaintively. "Everyone already knows my name."

"Well, it's still your first week. Now you know better, so you can do better. Right?"

"Right," Tony agreed. His deep brown eyes were shining with a surprising sincerity.

"It's exciting to work with college students, because there's such a chance to really influence them. But it can be a burden, too. I'd hate to be the reason any student lost interest in science." Bruce's own college professors had been such a lifeline to him. The idea that he could ever make as big of a difference in someone's life as his undergraduate advisor had made on him—that was what kept Bruce going.

"I'm sure you won't be."

"Do you think I could sit in on a few more of your classes? I feel like I could learn a lot from you."

"Um, yes, sure," Bruce agreed, flattered.

They moved on to vague reminiscing about college—they'd both been very young undergraduates and bonded over the social awkwardness that came along with being a child prodigy. Aware that they were eating tacos over a casual lunch and not in a therapist's office, Bruce did his best not to mention his abusive father or his dead mom. Tony didn't mention it either, but Bruce knew that Tony's parents had died when he was a teenager—that was a matter of public record.

Instead, they shared memories of favorite professors, of laboratory successes and failures, of favorite dining hall food items. And when their lunch break was over, Tony asked, "Hey, are you free again for lunch this Thursday?"

"Sure," Bruce said. "And I'm going to work on my Tetris skills in the meantime."

"Bring it on," Tony said with a wide smile.

Their lunch on Thursday was just as enjoyable—maybe even more so, since Bruce had managed to wring out a Tetris victory, and Tony had treated him to extra guac. Before he knew it, somehow Bruce found himself with a standing Tuesday/Thursday lunch date with Tony Stark. More than that—he found himself _looking forward_ to his lunches with famed Merchant of Death Tony Stark, and not just because of the tacos. (Although they did quickly get to first-name basis with Luis and Scott, the owners of the food truck.)

And then, a month into the school year, Tony said, "Hey, what are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Uh…maybe laundry?" Truthfully, Bruce had therapy on Friday afternoons, and he wasn't usually in the mood for company after his appointments. Just another reason why he shouldn't—couldn't—date Tony. He was still too messed up to date anybody.

Tony grinned. "How about an upgrade? Wanna grab dinner?"

"Oh…" Bruce licked his lips. Tony wasn't exactly subtle, and Bruce was pretty sure that Tony had, improbably, been flirting with him for weeks, but had tried to push that thought out of his mind. Not because he wasn't interested in Tony, but because of the sheer impossibility of dating Tony. If he got any closer to Tony, it would be hard for Bruce to hide the way he lived. And he couldn't bear the thought of Tony realizing that Bruce was homeless, or—well, he just couldn't handle getting closer to Tony. 

Oblivious to Bruce's inner turmoil, Tony had continued to flirt, and Bruce had continued to redirect before it could get very far. 

Tony added, "My treat. Regardless of Tetris scores. Because I'd like to take you on a date?"

Bruce tried not to grimace. "Tony, I…I really like having you as a friend."

Tony's grin faltered. "Oh. Sorry, are you not—"

"No, I—I am. It's just not...not a good time for me. To date anyone? I mean, if—if I were—it would—I do—" Bruce struggled to explain his way out of this without mentioning that he was starting to despair that he'd be homeless forever. He knew, intellectually, that there was no shame in being unhoused—that the shame belonged to his employer, to the unfair housing market. But in practice, the very thought of looking an adorable billionaire in the eye and explaining that he lived out of his used Subaru made Bruce nauseous.

Tony held his hand up. "Okay, stop short-circuiting. Message received. I guess, if it becomes a good time...would you let me know?"

Bruce's shoulder sagged with relief. "Yes. Of course. Thanks. Sorry…"

"Nothing to apologize for." Tony's eyebrows furrowed. "We're still on for lunch on Tuesday, right?"

"For sure."

"Whew. I don't know what I'd do at this school without you."

Bruce laughed. "You'd have no trouble finding new friends."

Tony rolled his eyes. "I'd have no trouble finding people who wanted to kiss my ass for an hour in the hopes of getting a favor from me. I'd have a lot of trouble finding a _friend_."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I guess I hadn't thought about it like that," Bruce said. He resolved even harder to never let Tony know how he lived—he wasn't looking for a handout from Tony, and he didn't ever want to give that impression.

"Yeah, rich people have problems too, Bruce," Tony said wryly.

Bruce had laughed and tried to put the conversation out of his head. He was somewhat successful for a few weeks, largely because he was too busy to spend time dwelling on Tony Stark. In addition to his four classes at the university, he also had a few yoga and meditation classes each week over at Val's studio. Plus, he was still stubbornly trying to make time for his own research. He needed to publish _something_ soon to remain employable. He snuck in odd hours in the lab whenever he could. 

As an added bonus, he was getting a reputation for being in the science center at all hours for legitimate reasons, which meant that some nights he risked sleeping in his office instead of his car. If he were caught, he might be thought of as eccentric rather than homeless. Still, he was never able to really relax and get enough sleep. He slept lightly, fearful of being discovered by a roving campus police officer or night custodian. Or, god forbid, a student. His savings account was slowly growing in size but he still couldn't find anything remotely affordable in the area. He'd debated about getting on a waitlist for a spot at a shelter, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the shelters were for people more deserving than Bruce. After all, at least he had his car and his office. Some people had nothing.

So with all of those concerns weighing on his mind, it was mostly easy to avoid thinking about anything ever happening between him and Tony. But then one Thursday, Tony failed to show up for their lunch date.

Bruce texted him and got no response. He double-checked to make sure that he had the date right. He thought about shrugging it off and eating a cup of noodles at his desk—of course Tony would move on and find someone else to eat lunch with. Bruce was surprised it hadn't happened sooner, even if the thought crushed him. But some tiny voice in Bruce's head prompted him to run up to Tony's office, just to check.

He'd never been to Tony's office before—they always met either at Bruce's office or elsewhere on campus—but he knew where it was. He went over to the engineering wing and up the stairs, and found Tony's office door shut. Bruce knocked gently. He called, "Tony?"

After a long pause, he heard Tony tremulously call back, "Bruce?"

"Yeah. Is, um, everything okay?" 

Another pause. "Come in."

Bruce tried the door and found it unlocked. He spotted Tony sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest, visibly struggling to breathe.

"Oh, hey," Bruce murmured. He'd had enough panic attacks to recognize one. He sat down on the floor next to Tony and squeezed his hand. "Hey, would you breathe in with me? Good." He talked Tony through a short guided meditation.

Eventually, Tony's breathing leveled out. "Oh god. Thanks, Bruce."

"No problem."

"You're, um, really good at that."

"Oh. I, uh, also teach meditation classes? And yoga? Kind of a side hustle."

"Wow. You do extra teaching outside of your main teaching?"

"Ha, yeah." Silence hung in the air for a moment. "Uh, do you want some water or anything?"

"Coffee?"

"Caffeine's not great for panic attacks," Bruce said, but he let go of Tony's hand and stood up. Unlike Bruce's small, cluttered office, Tony's was completely devoid of decorations or clutter. And no hot plate or kettle in sight. "I'll be right back, just going to duck out to the lounge."

"No, wait, never mind," Tony said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I—you're right, I've probably had enough caffeine today."

"Okay." Bruce pulled his water bottle out of his bag and set it next to Tony. "Did, um, did anything happen?"

Tony exhaled. "No. I mean, not today."

Bruce nodded. He sat back down on the floor near Tony. After a long pause, he offered, "I get panic attacks, too."

Tony's gaze flicked over at Bruce. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean—it's gotten better. For me. Meditation helps. And drugs."

"Now we're talking. What dispensary do you use?" Bruce shook his head, and Tony added, "Ooh, who's your dealer, then?"

"No! Uh, Dr. Karim."

"Huh. What do they teach? And what do they sell?"

"No, she's my psychiatrist."

Tony sighed. "Oh. That's not fun."

"Not really, no."

"So, uh, what's your deal?"

"That's what Dr. Karim is trying to figure out," Bruce said drily. Tony winced, and Bruce felt bad for making a joke. Bruce cleared his throat. "Uh—I mean, I have PTSD."

"Oh. From what? Or—that's probably rude to ask. It's just—I think maybe...I have that too?" Bruce hesitated, and Tony said, "No, I get it if you don't want to say. I—I shouldn't have asked."

Tony's voice still sounded shaky. He looked and sounded so different from the polished public figure he usually presented.

Bruce said, "I—I don't mind telling you, it's just—I can't go into a lot of detail or anything, or—I just can't really talk about it right now." He didn't have the time it would take him to recover from that kind of emotional deep dive. He often needed hours to become functional again after his therapy appointments, and he had class in half an hour. And besides, if Tony knew the full extent of it...well, Bruce wasn't sure how Tony would react. He settled for the very abbreviated version. "I grew up in a, uh, an abusive household. A—a highly abusive household. And, uh…"

"And now you meditate?" Tony suggested.

Bruce smiled. "Yeah. Now I meditate."

"God, Bruce, I'm sorry, though. That's...I'm sorry." Tony reached over and squeezed Bruce's hand.

"Thanks. It's—like I said, I'm better these days." That was true, though "better" for Bruce was a pretty low bar.

"That's good."

"Yeah." Bruce sat quietly, not wanting to pry.

Tony said, "I—well, my dad was no picnic, but—uh. Last year I took this trip to Afghanistan, it was supposed to be basically a publicity thing, in and out, easy peasy. But, uh, we—my military escort and I—we were ambushed."

"Oh! I—I don't remember hearing about that. I'm sorry."

"Yeah—they—we—didn't really want it to get out. It was all hushed up, and I—well. I shouldn't—I'm lucky to be alive, and, uh, relatively unhurt."

"I'm sorry that happened."

"I—people died, Bruce. Because of me. And my best friend, he's paralyzed. Because of me. And now I—I can't handle sitting in an office and reading some emails?"

"Tony. That—I'm not a psychiatrist but—of course you have trauma from going through something like that. That's awful. And I—can't imagine that those people are dead _because_ of you. You were just...there, also."

"But they wouldn't have been driving out that way if it weren't for me! Me and my stupid company. It's not even my company anymore, and I can't—I—" Tony's breathing started to speed up again.

"Hey, you're safe, Tony."

Tony drew a ragged breath. "Yeah. I—what time is it? You probably have class soon, right?"

"I—" Bruce checked his watch. "I have a few minutes. But if you need, I—I can text Amadeus. He can cover for me."

"No, no, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? It's okay if you're not okay."

Tony laughed. "I mean, big picture, I guess, no, I'm not okay, exactly, but I can be left unattended."

"Okay," Bruce said reluctantly. He didn't like to miss class on short notice, but nor did he like the idea of leaving Tony in this state.

"Seriously, Bruce, I'm okay. But thank you. And sorry for using up your lunch break."

Tony's voice sounded steadier, and Bruce smiled. "It's okay. I'll grab a granola bar."

"Wanna get dinner tonight? To make up for this?"

"You don't have to make up for anything," Bruce demurred. "But, um. I am teaching a meditation class at six tonight. If you wanted you could come to that? It might be helpful."

"Hmm. And then dinner after?" Tony suggested hopefully.

Bruce hoped this wasn't a date, but he didn't want to dissect the conversation right then, not when he'd maybe gotten Tony to agree to try meditation, so he just said, "Sure. Um, I'll text you details. And—let me know if you need anything in the meantime, okay?"

"Thanks, Bruce." Tony pried himself off the floor and walked Bruce to the door. There was an awkward moment where Bruce wasn't sure if they were going to hug or not, and ultimately, he stepped away before it could happen.

His teaching was definitely a little off that afternoon—Amadeus quietly asked him if everything was okay—but he made it through class with no major incidents. And if he ended it a little early, well, none of his students complained.

Bruce went back to his office for a brief break until his next class. He texted Tony, _How's it going?_

Tony replied, _Hungry for Tetris. Up for a game?_

Bruce smiled at his phone. _You're on._

They played a few rounds together. The game really was almost meditative, the way you could only focus on the pieces in front of you. Bruce won a few rounds, then texted, _I should get ready for my next class._

Tony replied, _Sure, kick a man while he's down and leave while you're still winning. I see how it is ;)_

Bruce laughed. _You got me. Anyway, if you're still up to trying meditation, my class is tonight at 6._ He added the studio's website.

Tony: _As long as I don't have to talk about my feelings._

Bruce: _Talking is actually strongly discouraged. All you have to do is breathe._

Tony: _I guess I can do that._

Tony: _I'll see you there. And afterwards, dinner is on me, in honor of your Tetris victory._

Bruce: _:)_

Bruce was still distracted during his afternoon class, but in a different way. Why on earth had he invited Tony to one of his classes? Sure—he thought meditation might help Tony with whatever he was going through. But the act of teaching those classes made Bruce so vulnerable. But then, Tony had just let Bruce see him in a very vulnerable state. Maybe it would somehow make things even between the two of them.

Bruce shook his head and forced himself to focus on the students in front of him. They were in the lab today, and even though they weren't working with any dangerous materials, they all still needed to be cautious of basic safety procedures. He circulated among his students, answering questions, correcting techniques, and gently reminding them to bring safety glasses down from their foreheads and over their eyes (which they mostly waited to roll until after Bruce had moved on).

Finally, they made it to the end of class. The students had hopefully learned something about Newton's Third Law, and Bruce was free to grab his gym bag and head over to Val's studio to change clothes and prepare for what would likely be his least-relaxing ever meditation class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to go full Lunch and Learn on you, but [adjunct professors living in poverty and homelessness is a real problem](https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2017/sep/28/adjunct-professors-homeless-sex-work-academia-poverty), in case you didn't know!


	4. Social Research Methods

Tony opened and closed dresser drawers at random, trying to figure out what a person was supposed to wear to meditation class. Was it like workout clothes? Probably not jeans. He thought about texting Bruce to ask, but he didn't want to seem weird. Would that be weird? Bruce had already seen him having a panic attack, asking about clothes probably wasn't weirder than that. 

He still couldn't believe he'd told Bruce so much of what had happened in Afghanistan that afternoon. It was a story he and his team had fought to keep out of the news and he'd just blurted it out to someone he barely knew? But Tony had felt such an instant spark of connection with Bruce, from the first time they'd met, and it had only grown stronger as he learned more about Bruce. Surely someone who took such care with his students' names would treat Tony's feelings with equal consideration? Besides, Bruce had shared some of his story with Tony, too. Bruce seemed to understand where Tony was coming from.

Tony pulled up the website Bruce had sent him for Valhalla Wellness and peered at the photos, trying to see what everyone was wearing there. He settled on a pair of loose yoga pants and a skin-tight black tank top. Shoes? He couldn't see what people were wearing when they were sitting cross legged. It probably didn't matter. Did it? He put on socks and sneakers. Then he thought, _Fuck it,_ , and took a photo of himself in the full-length mirror. Actually he took several, and then he selected the most flattering one and texted it to Bruce. _Is this outfit okay for meditation class?_

Bruce replied with a thumbs up emoji. Tony bit his lip. He took off the tank top and took another picture. He'd been working with a personal trainer and he knew he'd rebuilt the muscles he'd lost while recovering from the injuries he'd gotten in Afghanistan. You could barely even see the scars, especially not with this flattering lighting. He sent the shirtless picture to Bruce and asked, _What about this?_

Bruce: _Also fine. Whatever you feel comfortable in._

Tony thought, _Seriously, Banner? Not even a sweat drop emoji?_

Tony texted, _OK. What kind of shoes?_

Bruce: _Shoes off._

Tony raised his eyebrows at his phone. _Socks?_

Bruce: _You can keep socks on._

That was a relief. Tony wasn't exactly a germaphobe but he did _not_ want his bare feet touching a public floor. He sent back a thumbs up emoji and went back to trying to figure out why Bruce didn't want to date him. Tony looked at his thirst trap photos with an objective eye and concluded: they were hot. His looks couldn't be the problem here. Tony was rich and smart and successful (ish). Plenty of other people were eager to date Tony.

Sure, he was a little bit fucked up, but who wasn't? And Bruce didn't seem judgmental. Tony was pretty sure that Bruce wouldn't decline him based on his probable PTSD. It must be something else.

Was Bruce straight? But Tony had seen how Bruce looked at him sometimes, not to mention the rainbow flag outside his office. Maybe he was just playing hard to get? That didn't seem right, either. Tony thought again about the conversation they'd had earlier that day, on the floor of Tony's office. Bruce seemed to have his own share of baggage. Maybe it really was a case of, "It's not you, it's me." If so, Tony was willing to wait until Bruce got with the program. 

Tony checked the time and figured he'd better get a move on. He didn't think Bruce would be too impressed if Tony showed up late for meditation class. It would harsh everyone's zen. He put a change of clothes and a water bottle—actually it was Bruce's water bottle that he'd left in Tony's office—in a gym bag and headed for the studio, which turned out to be a fairly nondescript little building with a tiny parking lot. He found a street spot and made it inside right at 6PM. An unimpressed receptionist told him that class started promptly at 6, but since Bruce had left a class voucher for him at the desk, he could quietly go in and take a seat at the back.

Tony felt that this was unfair; he was being treated like he was late even though he was _on time_. But he didn't fight about it, just put his stuff—including his shoes—into the indicated cubby and slipped into the indicated classroom. He'd expected, or feared, that it would be full of candles and crystals and stuff. But it was just an empty room with soft black cushions scattered on a hardwood floor. There were low overhead lights, and a vague scent of lavender that mostly covered the scent of industrial cleaner. It was...fine.

Tony settled on a cushion in the back row. At the front of the room, Bruce smiled. "Hey, welcome," he said. "It's always nice to have newcomers." His voice was low and husky; calming, but also sexy? Maybe Tony was just in over his head. But as Bruce continued his opening spiel, Tony was pretty sure that Bruce had an objectively sexy voice, especially when he was teaching. He tended toward mumbly when he wasn't teaching, and Tony appreciated hearing Bruce project clearly.

Bruce asked everyone to close their eyes. Tony did, at first, but then he slit them open to see if anyone else had them open. Bruce had his eyes shut, and Tony took some time to appreciate the peaceful expression on Bruce's face. After a long look, Tony reluctantly closed his eyes again, to avoid being caught in his voyeurism.

Tony had never thought that he'd enjoy meditation. And he didn't. But he did enjoy hearing Bruce softly say things like, "Leave anything that's bothering you outside this room," and "Imagine tension leaving your body every time you exhale." Still: it was way more boring than having a conversation with Bruce, and Tony was pleased when Bruce finally rang some kind of bell and invited everyone to open their eyes.

"Take your time coming back to your bodies," Bruce said. "Whenever you're ready, you can make your way off the floor and out of the studio. Thanks for sharing your time with me tonight."

Tony stood up immediately, then watched with mild jealousy as some other students in the class—most of whom were also wearing form-fitting yoga clothes—approached Bruce to speak with him privately. Bruce smiled, and nodded, and listened, and sent them on their way. Some of the other students gave Tony quick double-takes on their way out, but nobody stopped to talk to him. Finally, Tony and Bruce were the only ones left.

Tony felt his jealousy evaporate when Bruce smiled at him, clearly a bigger, happier smile than the one he'd shown to everyone else. "Hey, glad you made it," Bruce said softly.

Tony smiled back. "Thanks for inviting me."

"How did you like it?"

"Oh...let's talk about it at dinner," Tony dodged.

"Sure. Let's just change first." Bruce licked his lips and pointed toward the room's other door. "Uh, my stuff is in the staff locker room, so I'll just meet you out front?"

"Sounds good."

Tony made his way to the public locker room and hastily changed clothes. Luckily, he'd spent long enough waiting to talk to Bruce that he had the locker room to himself. He checked his hair in the mirror and went out front, where Bruce was already waiting, dressed in khakis and a yellow Oxford shirt. 

"So, are you on a taco-only diet, or do you feel up to a little change of pace?"

Bruce smiled. "I wouldn't mind a little change."

"Great. Italian? I'll drive."

Bruce followed Tony to his car. "Wow, nice car. Electric?"

"Yeah, completely carbon-neutral."

"Cool."

It wasn't far to the restaurant, where they were promptly seated at a small, secluded table. The waiter included a wine list with their menus, and Tony asked, "Want to share a bottle?"

"Um...well, why not?" 

"That's the spirit! It's good stuff." They ordered their food and Tony asked for a bottle of a very nice red.

Once their menus were out of the way, Tony said, "So, seems like you're really fitting in with the Californian lifestyle."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Think you'll stick around?" Tony asked, trying to sound casual. "I know you said you'd moved around a lot the last few years."

"Oh...well, it's not really up to me."

"What do you mean?"

"Until I get tenure somewhere, I, uh, kind of have to keep moving from school to school. I only have a one year contract at Shield."

"But surely they'd extend it, if you wanted?"

Bruce shook his head. "I'm just filling in while Dr. Selvig is on sabbatical. And until I can publish something important, I'm just not that valuable."

"What do you mean? I've seen your research. It's groundbreaking."

Bruce took a sip of wine and considered his answer. Finally, he said, "The thing is, my research—a lot of its most obvious applications are military. And I, I'm not comfortable with that. But universities want the kind of funding a DoD contract can bring in. So if I'm not going to provide them with that, then I have to figure something else out. Or keep moving around indefinitely."

"That's stupid. I mean, I—if I had an employee like you, I'd do anything to keep you around."

Bruce grinned. "Well, maybe you should see if you can get Dean Fury's job."

"No, I'd hate that," Tony said automatically. "But—wait. You _should_ just come work with me. I mean, after your contract is up or whatever."

Bruce blinked. "I...Tony, I'm not—"

"—not making weapons, I know. Me neither! That's my whole—that's why I'm here. Because I wanted SI to stop making weapons, but instead the board removed me from my position. Because the weapons were too profitable. But if we work together, think of the kinds of advances we could make. Consumer tech...medical tech...clean energy?" Tony's pulse raced with excitement. Why hadn't he thought of this before? If they could just come up with something that was both profitable and peaceful, he could surely convince the board to give him back his company and fire Stane.

"That's really...uh...wow," Bruce said. 

"You don't have to decide right now, obviously, you can come see my workshop, I'll show you around, make you an offer. Definitely better paying than academia, I can tell you that."

"That...I'll think about it," Bruce agreed.

"Okay. Of course. I'll follow up some other time. Like tomorrow, maybe."

"What about...how did you like meditation?" Tony tried to keep his facial expression neutral, but from Bruce's laugh, he didn't think he'd succeeded. "Not for you, huh?"

"Not really, no," Tony admitted. "You're a good teacher, though."

"Thanks. And that's okay, it's not for everyone. The, uh, breathing techniques can really help, though."

"Yeah. I—I'll keep those in mind." Tony really didn't want to talk about his mental health any more, and he was relieved when the waiter brought their food over.

"This is really good," Bruce said, after his first bite of portobello ravioli.

"Yeah, all that sitting still builds up an appetite."

"This is brain food," Bruce agreed solemnly.

They kept chatting and joking and drinking throughout dinner, even after their plates had been long cleared. It was the best date Tony had been on in a long time, and it wasn't even a date. The waiter kept circling their table from afar, and finally Bruce said, "Oh, god, we should get out of here so they can shut down for the night."

Tony glanced around and saw that they were the only ones left. He was tempted to just offer to pay the staff to stay open later, but he suspected that Bruce would not be impressed by that move. "You're right," he said, and signaled for the waiter. He paid the check and left a generous tip.

Outside the restaurant, Bruce hesitated a moment before asking, "Are you good to drive?"

"Huh?"

"From the wine?"

"Oh! Yeah, I—uh, didn't have that much. For me, anyway."

Bruce blinked. "Oh. I—I don't usually drink very much, I guess. I—I'm kind of feeling it."

Tony smiled. It hadn't even occurred to him that either of them might get drunk off of a few glasses of wine over the course of an evening, but now that Bruce mentioned it, Tony noticed that his cheeks were slightly flushed and his eyes were glassy. And he had definitely gotten more animated as the night went on. _What an adorable little lightweight._ "Well, I'll make sure you get home safely, then."

"Oh, n-no, I—my car's still on campus."

"But are _you_ good to drive?"

Bruce bit his full lower lip. "Uh—well, I have a few things to finish up in my office, I'll do that before I go home."

"You're going to do drunk grading? Just let me take you home and you can get an Uber back in the morning."

Bruce shook his head emphatically. "No, really, I'll be fine. Thank you."

Tony didn't understand why Bruce was being so weird. Maybe he was worried about his car being vandalized if he left it on campus overnight? The campus seemed pretty safe to him, though. "Okay, how about if we just walk around for a little bit until you sober up? I'd feel better about that."

Bruce sighed. "Fine."

"Good. Oh! I have something for you." Tony unlocked his car and proudly produced Bruce's water bottle from his gym bag. "Here, you left it earlier. Now you can hydrate. So important, you know."

"Thanks, Tony." Bruce took the bottle and drank. "You're a good friend."

"So are you. Why don't we go walk around campus? I haven't seen much outside of the science center. Let's go bully some English majors."

"Tony!" Bruce scolded, but he was laughing.

"You're right, they're already suffering enough."

They walked together for a few blocks in relative quiet while Tony considered what his ethical obligations in this situation were. He wasn't going to _take advantage_ of Bruce like some kind of villain in an after school special. But maybe...he could get a little bit of information out of Bruce while his inhibitions seemed to be slightly lower. "Bruce? Are you seeing anyone?"

Bruce shook his head. "Oh, no."

"Then why don't you want to date me?"

"It's not that I don't want to. I—I just can't."

"I think you could, though. If you wanted to. Is it an STI, because—"

" _No_ —"

"—there are treatments. Okay, fine, just asking. Uh, I'm clean, for the record, though."

Bruce crossed his arms. "Me, too."

"Or if you're asexual, we don't have to—"

"No, it's not—sex is...fine." Tony's eyebrows went up and he opened his mouth to speak in fervent defense of sex being way better than "fine,", but Bruce continued, "It's just—I can't...do this right now. And—and you said, you said it was okay if we were just friends."

Tony sighed and felt guilty for pressuring Bruce. "You're right. I did. And it is. I just—I just wanted to understand. It just seems like we could have something here."

Sounding genuinely regretful, Bruce said, "No. Yeah. I just need—I just need some more time. I'm sorry." 

"Okay, okay, take your time. But let me ask, if I send you more shirtless pictures, will that help or hurt my case?"

Bruce snorted. "It...wouldn't hurt," he said shyly.

"Noted."

"Uh, what about you?"

"Oh, you can send me as many pictures as you want."

Bruce shook his head. "I mean, you aren't seeing anyone? I thought, you, um...were…kinda..."

"A manwhore?" Tony offered brightly. He knew what the magazines said about him, that he'd never been pictured with the same date twice. 

"I wasn't going to say _that_ ," Bruce replied primly.

"Of course you weren't. Anyway, no, I'm not seeing anyone at the moment. Not since I got back from Afghanistan."

"Oh. Sorry."

"S'okay."

After a pause, Bruce said, "The moon's really bright tonight."

Tony accepted the change of conversation and they discussed the sky, the weather, and the purpose of humanities majors as they walked around campus. Bruce pointed out a few constellations, visible despite the light pollution. Tony paused to take a picture of a weird statue for Instagram; Pepper was always encouraging him to post things from campus, to demonstrate that he was respectable now, no longer filling his social media with parties and thirst trap selfies. Somehow this all played in to her plan to get him back in the favor of the board of directors. Tony wasn't sure how well it would work, but he didn't exactly have any other ideas right now.

Eventually, their leisurely walk brought them back to the science center. "You're _sure_ you don't want a ride home?" Tony asked.

Bruce offered a wan smile. "Positive. But, thanks." He hovered for a moment at the door, fumbling for his badge. He pulled it out triumphantly and said, "Good night, Tony. See you on Tuesday."

Tony longed to hug Bruce, to kiss him, to—well. Instead, he nodded and said, "Good night, Bruce. Text me when you get home, okay?"

"Uh—sure. You, too."

After Bruce was safely inside the building, Tony began his walk back to his own car. Although he'd been shot down, he couldn't help but feel optimistic. Bruce was single, and he clearly liked Tony. He just needed to...work through something? Whatever Bruce's problem was, Tony was sure that his brilliant friend could fix it if he put his mind to it. And then they could be together. That thought sustained Tony on his short drive back to his empty mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that [the Department of Defense awarded $185 million in grants to different university research teams this year](https://www.defense.gov/Newsroom/Releases/Release/Article/2099273/fiscal-year-2020-university-research-funding-awards/#:~:text=Fiscal%20Year%202020%20University%20Research%20Funding%20Awards,-Feb.&text=The%20Department%20of%20Defense%20\(DoD,research%20spanning%20multiple%20scientific%20disciplines.)? Well, bye!


	5. Emergency Medicine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for specific mild content warnings, as well as an explanation.

Bruce made his way through the science center, triggering motion activated lights as he walked down to his basement office. He managed to keep himself together until he was in his office with the door shut, at which point he sat at his chair and let out some kind of hysterical laugh-sob. What on earth had he been thinking? How had he thought this night would go? He'd known from day one that he couldn't date Tony, at least not until he got his life in order. Which might not ever happen, so why had he agreed to have dinner with Tony?

He rationalized that at least he'd had good intentions when he'd invited Tony to try meditation. The techniques really could help Tony if he was having frequent panic attacks. But then he should have made an excuse, gone "home" after and eaten peanut butter at his desk.

Bruce's phone buzzed with a text from Tony. He looked down and saw a selfie of Tony, shirtless and posing seductively in a big, soft bed. _Made it home safe ;) Hope you did too._

Bruce buried his face in his hands. How long should he wait to pretend like he'd gotten home? Was there any possible way he could take a bedtime selfie that wasn't blatantly obvious that he was in a sleeping bag in a car? Of course there wasn't. He waited a few minutes and replied, _Home safe. Thanks again for dinner. Good night!_ He debated about leaving off the exclamation point, but then it seemed rude. He didn't want to be _rude_ , he just didn't want to date Tony. Well, no, he wanted to date Tony. But he didn't want to be homeless while he dated Tony.

Bruce waited a moment for a reply from Tony. None came, which was fair, if somehow disappointing. He locked up his office and trudged out to his car for another night of fitful sleep.

He passed more days and then more weeks in a similar fashion. Tony kept sending him occasional thirst trap selfies, but other than that, he made no further attempts to invite Bruce to anything besides their standing lunch dates. Bruce appreciated Tony respecting his boundaries, and yet...he also kind of wished that Tony might ask again. On particularly chilly fall nights, Bruce could feel his resolve weaken. Unfortunately, his immune system weakened along with it, and he picked up a bad cold in November.

Bruce dragged himself to the student health center to stock up on free cough drops and generic Dayquil, and he constantly drank orange juice and green tea. He felt sure that he could kick this thing if he could just get a good night's sleep. But his cough kept him up and it was hard to get comfortable in his car, especially as the nights grew colder. The low temperatures for November were around 60 degrees—much warmer than the weather in November in Iowa, the last place he'd lived. But in Iowa the cost of living was low enough that he could afford a fucking apartment. He was learning that 60 degrees in a parked car was very different from 60 degrees in the sunshine or inside an insulated building.

As his illness dragged on, people started to comment on it. Val kicked him out of the studio, telling him she'd cover his yoga and meditation classes until he could draw a full breath again. He hadn't even bothered to argue; he really couldn't model proper breathing techniques in his pathetic current state.

But when his TAs Amadeus and Shuri tried to convince him to call out sick from his university classes, he waved off their concerns. He didn't want to let his students down, and he could teach Physics 101 in his sleep. (Which was good, because some days, he practically was.) 

Tony fretted, too, which was kind of him, even if the attention made Bruce uncomfortable. "It's just a cold," Bruce insisted. "I just want to make it through to Thanksgiving break, then I can sleep for a week and shake it off."

"But you're the professor. You can cancel classes and sleep for a week _now_. Or let your TAs teach a session. I'm sure they can handle it."

"It sounds worse than it is," Bruce said, punctuated by a painful coughing fit.

"Well, it sounds pretty fucking bad, Bruce. And you've had this for weeks, haven't you?"

"Not that long," Bruce mumbled.

Tony looked skeptical. "I feel like it's been weeks. Maybe it _was_ a cold, but you probably have tuberculosis now."

"I passed my TB test."

Tony snorted. "You passed it at the start of the school year, that doesn't mean you don't have it _now._ "

"TB is very rare in the US. Stop mother henning me."

Tony held up his hands in surrender. "Fine, you're an adult, I just want my concern on the record."

"Your concern is noted and unneeded," Bruce said, before undermining his point with another long coughing fit.

"Jesus Christ, this is painful to listen to."

"Sorry." Bruce unwrapped another cough drop and sucked on it vigorously. 

Tony sighed. "So you're not traveling for Thanksgiving?"

Bruce shook his head. "I don't have anywhere to go. I'm just gonna sleep. What about you?"

Tony shrugged. "Same. Sometimes I go visit my best friend's family but I'm not going this year."

Bruce nodded and tried valiantly to hold back a coughing fit. "There's a meal on campus, for students who don't go home."

"Sounds depressing." Bruce coughed. Tony made a face. "You sound depressing too. You _have_ been to a doctor, right?"

"I went to the student health center," Bruce said, which was true. He hadn't made an appointment with a practitioner, but he'd stocked up on free medicine there. There was no point in seeing a doctor when there was still no cure for the common cold. Bruce didn't need to pay for the privilege of being told to drink some orange juice and get some sleep.

Tony's eyebrows furrowed. "Where the students go?" he asked incredulously.

"We can use it too. It has the lowest copays."

"Jesus _Christ_."

"I have to go to class," Bruce said, a little annoyed by Tony's elitism. Tony undoubtedly had his own personal physician, but he had to know that not everyone had the means for that. Bruce stood up and threw away his half-eaten plate of tacos; his cold was definitely messing with his appetite. Also it was hard to eat and cough at the same time.

Tony followed him. "Wait, Bruce, I—I know you're sick of hearing this, but would you please, please just go see an actual doctor? You look like shit, and you sound even worse. I'm worried."

"If I don't feel better after break," Bruce agreed.

"That's in like a week and a half."

"Mm-hmm?"

"That is an unacceptable timeline."

Bruce shook his head. "I'll see you on Thursday," he said, and strode off to class. Sure, he felt awful, but colds were like that. There was no cure for it besides sleep and fluids. Everyone knew that. He unwrapped another cough drop and issued a silent atheist prayer that he could make it to Friday before his body completely gave out on him. He was careful to always cover his cough with his elbow, but his students still looked at him like he was Typhoid Mary.

"It's just a cold," he insisted, although he was dimly starting to fear it might be something else.

He made it through his classes on Tuesday, but he picked up a fever that night. It made him shiver and ache and made it even harder for him to sleep, despite the higher-than-recommended dosage of generic Nyquil he took. And it made him finally decide to cancel his Wednesday classes. He knew the fever meant he was more likely to be contagious, and privately, he knew his students wouldn't really complain about it, especially not this close to break. He curled up on his office floor and took a fitful nap.

Bruce was just _so_ tired. If he could just get some real _sleep_ , he was sure he'd get better soon. It occurred to him that he could get a hotel room for a few days. He could afford that. He had a healthy savings account at this point in time—it was just that even though he finally had enough money saved for a decent security deposit plus first and last month's rent, he still couldn't find a _place_ that he'd be able to afford on an ongoing basis. He'd just gotten into such a frugal rut that he forgot about other options. 

While he was scrolling through hotel listings, he canceled his Thursday classes too. He decided not to cancel lunch with Tony, even though his appetite was still shot. It was stupid, but Bruce just didn't want to go a whole week and a half without seeing Tony. He'd have lunch with Tony and then go check himself in to the Holiday Inn. The idea of a good night's sleep in an actual bed invigorated him. Shortly before his usual meeting time with Tony, Bruce used that burst of energy to make an effort at tidying up his office. He'd been doing a lot of tea drinking and not much dishwashing. He gathered up the mugs and glasses that had stacked up on his desk—a wide variety of the miscellaneous, unmatched stuff that accumulated in the cabinets a staff lounge over the years—and began the arduous trek back to the lounge to wash them. 

He was carrying the cups in an awkward stack, focused intently on not dropping any of them. He was so out of it, and so intent on his task, that he didn't notice that Tony was in the hallway. Not until Bruce reached the door of the lounge and began trying to shift his stack of dishes so he could open the door, and Tony said, "Hey, I'll get the door." Bruce was so startled, he thought he might jump out of his skin. Instead, he dropped the stack of dishes and let out an undignified yelp.

"Oh my god, Bruce, I'm so sorry," Tony said. "I didn't mean to...I'll go get a...broom, I guess?" He went into the lounge to look for cleaning supplies, while Bruce crouched down and started trying to pick up pieces of broken glass and ceramics. Tony called, "Wait, be careful…" 

Unfortunately, Bruce was fucked up on cold medicine and sleep deprivation. He completely misjudged the spatial relationship between the pieces of broken glass and his skin. "Shit." He ran into the lounge to wash his bleeding hand.

"Jesus Christ, Bruce, what the fuck?" Tony said.

"Just a cut…" Bruce wheezed. He washed out the cut and pressed paper towels against it. He watched with a distant fascination as the paper towels bloomed with blood.

"I'm calling 911," Tony announced, pulling his sleek phone out of his pocket.

"No! It's not that bad," Bruce said, pressing more paper towels against his hand. 

"Bruce, you're bleeding all over the place _and_ you have tuberculosis. I'm calling 911."

"Tony, it—it's too expensive," Bruce said. He had some savings now, but not _ambulance_ savings. Especially not unnecessary ambulance savings. " _Please_."

"Bruce, I'll—" Tony looked at Bruce's face and sighed. "Okay, I'll make you a deal. If you can walk out to my car, I'll drive you to the hospital. If you can't make it to the parking lot, I'm calling 911, and they'll take you to the hospital."

"But—"

"Nope," Tony said firmly. "There are two options, and they both involve you going to the hospital. Do you want to go to the hospital in a car, or an ambulance?"

Bruce tried to take a deep breath, coughed for a minute, and finally said, with as much dignity as he could muster, "Fine. Car."

Tony grabbed the whole roll of paper towels and said, "Keep your hand above your heart, I think that's supposed to stop it from bleeding so much."

"That makes sense…" Bruce held his right hand up like he had a question, and used his left hand to press the soggy wad of paper towels against his cut. "Wait, we should clean up the glass…"

"Bruce, there are people whose literal job it is to clean this building. They will take care of it, and you will go to the hospital."

Tony put an arm around Bruce's shoulders and guided him down the hall. Bruce was starting to feel floaty. It felt nice, or at least, better than he'd been feeling. Tony kept looking over at him anxiously, and Bruce tried to smile encouragingly. "Wait, my office!"

"What?"

"I need to lock up my office."

Tony let out an exasperated sigh. "Give me your keys, I'll go lock it. Wait here."

Bruce obeyed, and before long, Tony came back with Bruce's messenger bag draped over his shoulder.

They made it to the elevator and then out to Tony's car, and Bruce said, "See? 'm fine."

Tony snorted. He wrapped more paper towels around Bruce's hand and said, "Please try not to get too much blood on my car. And don't die."

"'Kay," Bruce agreed. He felt like if he closed his eyes, he'd be able to sleep for a week straight. But he fought to keep them open—he wasn't sure what would happen if he was unconscious when they got to the hospital, but it would probably be bad. And expensive.

"I should have made you come to the doctor last week," Tony said. "Or the week before. I can't believe I let you get away with this for so long."

"You're not the boss of me," Bruce sang.

"That's for sure," Tony said. He made it to the emergency room quickly—probably as fast as an ambulance, and cheaper. "Hey, get out here, okay? I'm going to park the car and I'll be right back. _Do not die._ "

"Okay," Bruce agreed sleepily. When he got out of the car, a nice man in scrubs approached him.

"How can I help you?" the man asked.

Bruce held out his paper towel-wrapped hand. "It's bleeding," he announced.

"So it is," the man agreed. "Okay, well, let's get you admitted. How long ago did this happen?" He started walking into the hospital, and Bruce followed him.

"Ten minutes?"

"What happened?"

"Broken glass."

"An accident?" The man asked, his tone slightly suspicious.

"Yeah," Bruce said. He hoped he wasn't going to get dragged into a psych eval for this stupid cut. He had tried to kill himself once before, when he was much younger, and he hadn't aimed for the palm of his hand. That attempt had landed him three months in a juvenile psychiatric hospital, which he wasn't anxious to repeat. Luckily the man moved on before Bruce could blurt out, "If I'd been trying to kill myself, I would have tried harder."

"How long have you had that cough?"

"Um…"

Tony caught up with them. "At least three weeks, haven't you, Bruce?"

"I guess."

"Hmm," the hospital employee said. "You're with him?"

"Yes, he's my friend. I brought him here. He needs stitches. And probably some other stuff."

"We'll make sure he's seen as soon as possible. We just need some paperwork first."

"This is ridiculous. You're going to make him bleed out on the floor while he fills out paperwork?"

"It's not that bad," Bruce mumbled. 

"We'll make sure that he's seen as soon as possible," the hospital employee repeated. He handed a clipboard to Tony. "Can you help your friend fill this out?"

"Jesus Christ, fine," Tony said.

He sat down on a bench. Bruce dropped down next to him and held his right hand high. Tony started filling out the form, and then he asked, "Bruce, what's your address?"

Bruce sighed, which turned into a coughing fit, and then he finally produced the address of Valhalla Wellness. Val let him get mail there, and he figured the hospital probably wasn't going to look it up. 

Tony frowned, and Bruce was afraid he recognized the address. But then Tony glanced at Bruce's bleeding hand and said, "Okay. Uh, do you have your insurance card with you?"

"'S'in my wallet." Bruce painstakingly tried to work his wallet out of his pocket with his left hand. He handed it to Tony and belatedly hoped there wasn't anything incriminating in it.

Tony went through it, found his insurance card, and studied his drivers license. "You still have an Iowa license?"

"Oh...yeah, guess I haven't gotten around to changing it yet," Bruce said.

Tony shrugged. He brought the clipboard and Bruce's cards over to the desk. Bruce couldn't quite hear the conversation Tony had, but it resulted in a cheerful, scrubs-wearing person arriving with a wheelchair and a hospital bracelet, which they fastened around his left wrist to avoid the mess of his right hand.

"Hi, Dr. Banner," they chirped. "Ready to come back to an exam room?"

"I can walk," Bruce said, out of habit, though his head really felt quite light. The antiseptic smell of the hospital brought back unpleasant memories. He tried to focus on his breathing.

"Bruce, get in the fucking wheelchair," Tony said, through a tight smile.

"Fine." Bruce carefully stood and sat down in the wheelchair. He held his hand up, squeezing the wad of paper towels to it. He was struck by a coughing fit and struggled with how to politely cover his mouth without getting blood on anything.

Despite his exhaustion, he stubbornly clung to consciousness as his vitals were taken. His fever was clucked over. He was given a local anesthetic and his hand was cleaned and stitched back together. It was awfully hard to pay attention to what anyone was saying to him, but he heard Tony say, "Got it. I'll make sure he does."

So he figured he didn't need to pay attention, not if Tony was there. Maybe he could sleep, actually? That would be nice. He closed his eyes experimentally.

When he woke up, a different scrubs-wearing person (Doctor? Nurse? Something else?) was crouched in front of him. "Hey, Dr. Banner, sorry to wake you, but we need you to stand up so we can take a quick X-ray."

Bruce blinked. "I didn't break any bones. Just a cut." He waved his stitched-together hand out as proof.

"She needs to give you a chest X-ray, Bruce," Tony explained.

"I didn't hurt my chest." Bruce pointed to his right hand with his left hand. "I hurt my hand."

"We're just pretty concerned about this cough you've got, and your O2 levels are pretty low," the scrubs-wearer explained.

"Mph."

"C'mon, Bruce, I'll help, okay?" Tony asked. He gently grabbed Bruce's left hand and pulled him to his feet. He helped Bruce take off his shirt and cover himself with a hospital gown. Bruce shivered without his sweater, but managed to get through the X-ray process.

The scrubs-wearing person reassured Bruce that he was doing an amazing job, but Bruce just wanted to sleep. She sent him and Tony back to wait in a small exam room and said that someone would be with them soon to talk about the results. Tony helped him put his sweater back on and then kept hold of Bruce's left hand.

Bruce said, "Hey, you don't need to stay with me."

"Well, I'm going to."

"Don't you have class this afternoon?"

"Shit." Tony dropped Bruce's hand and picked up his phone, sending off a quick message. "There, cancelled. I'm sure they'll be thrilled. Want me to email yours?"

"Oh, I already cancelled my classes for today. I'm sick."

Tony laughed. "About time you admitted it." 

"But I'll be okay. You can go."

"Yes, you _will_ be okay." Tony grabbed Bruce's hand again and squeezed it. He kept holding it, except for the times when he got up to pester hospital employees. Bruce's illness was clearly not a priority emergency, but Tony stayed anyway.

Bruce again drifted into a light nap, and was deeply irritated to be awakened _again_. This time the person introduced herself as Dr. Ko. Dr. Ko explained that Bruce had a fairly advanced case of pneumonia. She told him all the things that he should do to not have pneumonia anymore, but it was really hard to focus. She gave him a paper cup of pills to take right away. He swallowed them with difficulty while she rattled off a list of instructions.

She paused and asked, "Do you have any questions?"

Bruce realized she was talking to Tony, not to him. He saw that Tony was typing away on his phone. Tony said, "I think I got everything...did you call in the prescriptions already or do I need to do that?"

"Mandy will help you with that," Dr. Ko said.

"Who's Mandy?" Bruce asked sleepily.

"You met Mandy before," Tony said. "She's the—it doesn't matter, I'll talk to her."

"'Kay."

"Dr. Banner, please make sure to follow all of my instructions and finish your full course of antibiotics," Dr. Ko said. "Frankly, I'm not sure you realize how sick you are."

Bruce nodded.

Tony said, "He doesn't, but I'll make sure he takes all of them."

"I hope you feel better soon, Dr. Banner," Dr. Ko said. She offered her hand for a handshake. Bruce hesitantly held out his injured right hand, then his awkward left hand, then just waved. 

"You are a _disaster_ , Banner," Tony muttered.

"What else is new?" Bruce replied.

Tony guided Bruce through the rest of the hospital checkout procedure. Bruce would have to figure out how much it had all cost later; the thought made him feel even worse than he already did. Tony wheeled Bruce out of the hospital and helped him back into the passenger seat of Tony's car, returning the wheelchair to a waiting aide. "Okay. Let's get you home. I'll have your prescriptions delivered."

Bruce nodded, just barely hanging onto the thread of the conversation.

"Bruce?" Tony prompted.

"Mm-hmm."

"What's your address?"

Bruce closed his eyes and leaned his head against the car door. 

"Aww, Bruce," Tony said. "Okay, let me look at your paperwork...Jesus, they give you a whole tree's worth of stuff just to get you out of there."

There was a pause, and then Bruce felt Tony's hand on his shoulder. "Bruce? According to GPS, this address you gave them is for the yoga studio. You don't live there, do you? Bruce, c'mon, I'm sorry, you can sleep soon but I gotta know where to take you."

"You can just...drop me off there," Bruce said with difficulty. He coughed and struggled for breath.

"Bruce, what the fuck, you need to be in _bed_ , not on a yoga mat or whatever. Where do you _live_?" Bruce closed his eyes and tried to think of a way out of this. He could say the hotel he'd booked, but he knew that would just raise more questions. He was supposed to be smart, why couldn't he _think_? "Bruce?"

Bruce gave up on trying to wring an explanation out of his exhausted brain. "I...I live in my car, okay?"

Tony blinked. "You mean you...you're...homeless?"

"Kinda. Yeah." 

"Oh my god, Bruce, you—okay." Tony scrubbed his palm down his face and took in a deep, measured breath. Bruce was distantly proud of Tony's breathing technique. "Fine. You're coming home with me, then."

Bruce nodded and closed his eyes again. His lungs still felt full of gunk, but it seemed a weight had been lifted off of his chest. Even if Tony never wanted to talk to him again, at least Bruce didn't have to keep pretending. He drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warnings:** This chapter contains a vague mention of a past suicide attempt, as well as a trip to the hospital for stitches (required for a genuine accident, not a present-day attempt at self harm).
> 
>  **Explanation:** Both of my beta readers were like, "Um, why won't Bruce just go to the doctor if he's that sick? Seems unrealistic!" And maybe it just hits differently in the time of COVID, or maybe I'm just really heckin dumb, but a few years ago, as a young, generally healthy person (sorry 2 brag), I got pneumonia and also refused to go to the doctor for a ridiculously long time, even though I had health insurance, a job, and an apartment (again, sorry 2 brag). But the thing was, even though I was really sick, it just felt like the absolute worst cold, and like, why am I gonna waste a copay to go hear that there's still no cure for the common cold and I should sleep and drink orange juice?! Anyway, by the time I dragged myself to urgent care I got a chest X-ray and a boatload of prescriptions, and I was so out of it that when I went to get a Lyft home (because _I_ don't have an ethical billionaire boyfriend), I put in an address in the wrong CITY and did not realize my error for _quite_ some time.
> 
> So there are plenty of things in my fic that are unrealistic, such as the existence of an ethical billionaire, but I personally don't think Bruce's illness, or his attempt to ignore his illness until it goes away, is one of those things! 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! I hope you never get pneumonia, I would rate the whole experience 0 stars out of 5.


	6. Fundamentals of Nursing

Tony was grateful that he'd learned some of Bruce's dumb meditation stuff, because he was definitely using all of those breathing techniques to stay calm as he drove Bruce home. He couldn't believe that his brilliant, hard-working friend was homeless—and yet as soon as he'd said it, it did actually explain a lot. But why had Bruce kept it a secret from Tony? And why hadn't Tony figured it out sooner? 

He took a deep breath, silently counting as he breathed in and out. He needed to stay calm right now. He needed to get Bruce safely into a fucking bed. He needed to not crash the car.

At a red light, he glanced over at Bruce, who had fallen asleep. His face was still deathly pale. He was snoring loudly and his breathing sounded worrisome. Why hadn't Tony taken him to the doctor sooner? Tony sighed. Because Bruce was an adult. He'd offered Bruce help, and he hadn't taken it. Still, there must have been something else Tony could have done before things got to this point.

Tony pulled into his long driveway and into the garage. He reached over and tapped Bruce on the shoulder. Bruce flinched wildly and jumped awake, a clear look of panic in his eyes.

Tony tried to keep his tone soft as he said, "Hey, Bruce, it's okay. We're at my house. Let's get you inside. You'll sleep in a guest room."

Bruce nodded slowly. His eyes downcast, he mumbled, "Thanks, Tony."

"Of course." Tony came around to the other side of the car. He helped Bruce stand and carefully escorted him to the guest room that was closest to Tony's bedroom. Even leaning on Tony and traveling at a snail's pace, the trip up the stairs seemed to take the absolute last reserves of strength that Bruce had, and it was a relief when they made it to the bedroom. Tony deposited Bruce on the edge of the bed and said, "Just wait here one sec, I'll get you some pajamas."

Bruce nodded. Tony went down the hall to his room. He called the pharmacy to change delivery to his address and felt proud of himself for managing that basic task. Usually he had Pepper do that sort of thing but there was no time to explain this whole situation to her. He took a brief moment to again feel bad about how luxurious his lifestyle was compared to Bruce's—but this wasn't the time for that. He needed to focus, to figure out how he was going to be the caretaker for a very sick human. He did not have a lot of experience in this area, but he was smart—he could figure it out.

Tony took the clothes to Bruce and helped him change—his injured right hand made things awkward. Tony had wanted to get into Bruce's pants, but not like this. At least Bruce wasn't fighting him. He let Tony tuck him into bed and blinked up at him with glassy eyes. Tony stacked up more pillows behind Bruce—the doctor had said he should sleep with his head elevated, almost sitting up, to better manage the fluid in his lungs. Bruce murmured something about the pillows, but he settled back against them.

Tony reached out and removed Bruce's glasses from his face. Then he gently touched Bruce's forehead. It was still warm, but not as hot as he'd been before. The first round of drugs they'd given him at the hospital must be taking effect. Bruce closed his eyes and turned his face further into Tony's touch.

Tony smiled and stroked Bruce's hair. "You're gonna be okay, Bruce. They're going to deliver your medicine soon. You get that good codeine cough syrup, and then you can sleep for a week like you wanted, okay?"

"Okay."

Tony's phone buzzed with a notification. "Speak of the devil," Tony said. "I'll be right back." He stroked Bruce's hair one last time and went down to retrieve the medicine. Back upstairs, he read the directions carefully—something else he wasn't used to doing—and poured Bruce a dose of the cough syrup.

"Bruce, sit up for a minute so you can take this, okay?"

Bruce pushed himself further up off the pillows with obvious difficulty and took the medicine. He made a face at the taste, but said nothing. 

"Okay, good job, you can lie back down now."

"Mph."

"Hey, I'm going to get groceries, anything you want to eat? Or drink? For later."

Bruce closed his eyes and shook his head. His breathing still made an alarming rattling kind of sound, but Tony supposed the medicine probably needed more time to quell whatever riot was happening inside of Bruce's lungs.

"Okay. Well, get some sleep. And let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks," Bruce said, a barely audible whisper.

Tony waited until Bruce fell back to sleep. He went back down the hall to his own room, sat on the floor, and dissolved into a chaotic laughing, crying panic attack. He had no idea how he'd held it together as long as he had. Seeing Bruce on the floor, with all the blood—so much blood—it had reminded him of the horribly wounded soldiers he'd seen in Afghanistan. And the stress of realizing how sick Bruce was, and that the responsibility for his care had somehow fallen to Tony? It was too much for him, and yet somehow, he'd done it. But now that the moment of crisis was over, he'd lost whatever adrenaline rush had allowed him to pose as a functional adult for a moment. 

So he hugged a pillow to his chest and counted his breaths until he'd managed to reassert control over his body. Then, still sitting on the floor, he called Pepper. He no longer had as urgent of a need for a personal assistant as he'd had as CEO, but he'd kept paying her full-time anyway because he couldn't imagine how he'd get by without her.

She answered on the second ring. "Tony? Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

Tony squinted. He tried to remember if he'd managed to cancel his class. He put Pepper on speakerphone, scrolled through his outbox, and found that he had indeed sent out that email from the waiting room. He remembered now— _Bruce_ had reminded him, responsible even when deliriously feverish. "I gave them the day off, it's almost Thanksgiving break."

"Ah. I'm sure they enjoyed that. So, what's up?"

"What food should I get for a sick person? If he's a vegetarian. Vegetable soup doesn't seem as good as chicken noodle soup. Is vegetable noodle soup a thing?"

After a long pause, she asked, "Are you sick, Tony? And when did you become a vegetarian?"

"No, no. My friend is sick, and he's staying with me."

"Rhodey is a vegetarian now? And I thought he was in DC."

"Pepper, I have other friends," Tony insisted.

"Right, of course," Pepper said, after an incriminating pause. Tony didn't have any other _close_ friends, but he had...friendly people. People he saw at parties. People he slept with and never called again. 

Tony sighed. "His name is Bruce, he's a professor at Shield, he's got pneumonia so he's staying with me." 

"With _you_?"

"It's not like I don't have the space."

"Of course, just—um. Well, that's nice of you. Why don't you just ask him what food he wants?"

"He's asleep. And he—he doesn't really like to ask for things. So I just thought it would be nice if I had some stuff on hand already."

"That's...very thoughtful," Pepper said, sounding surprised. "Well, how about if I put in an order for you. You said he's vegetarian? Any food allergies?"

"I don't think so. Not any of the big ones, anyway. He's never mentioned it at lunch."

"Okay, I'll take care of it," Pepper said. "Have you given any thought to Thanksgiving? I know it's a week off, but it's best if we can order it in advance, if you're planning on staying home."

"No, or...I don't know. A pie? We should get a pie."

"What kind of pie?"

Tony closed his eyes for a minute, remembering the delicious homemade pumpkin pies their family's cook, Anna, had made. He thought about the sweet potato pies that Rhodey's mom made. "You know what? Get the ingredients to make a pumpkin pie."

"For...are _you_ going to make the pie?"

"It can't be that hard, right?"

"I will...order you an assortment," Pepper said. "Let me know if you need anything else."

Tony thought for a minute. "Oh, clothes. I mean, I can lend him some clothes, but maybe some fresh underwear and stuff. He didn't really pack a bag and I don't want to worry about going back to get stuff out of his car." 

"What size does he wear?"

"Uh...like, my size-ish? I'll see if I can find out."

"Let me know. I suppose he won't want anything too structured anyway, so sizing isn't as important as if we were getting him a suit."

Tony winced to himself as he remembered teasing Bruce about wearing the same faded suit all the time. He should probably get Bruce a new suit, too, but that could wait. "Thanks, Pepper. You're the best."

"I know."

She hung up. Tony took his laptop and went to hang out on the couch in Bruce's guest room. Bruce was asleep and snoring like a cartoon character; Tony was almost surprised not to see little Zs visible over his head. Tony started to look over his students' progress reports, but he couldn't focus. Instead, he dug through the hamper and checked the labels on Bruce's clothes. He texted the sizes to Pepper. Then he read over Bruce's prescriptions and spread them out on the nightstand. He scanned the labels with his phone and asked his AI JARVIS to remind him when it was time for Bruce to take more of each medication. 

He remembered when he'd gotten back from Afghanistan and had been recovering from his injuries at home. Pepper had helped him, but mostly there had been a series of in-home nurses. Tony wasn't sure that Bruce required that level of care, but he also wasn't sure that he alone was up for taking care of Bruce. He looked across the room at Bruce, still sacked out. He couldn't believe Bruce had been sleeping in his car for months. No wonder he was so run down.

Tony read up on pneumonia, determined to help Bruce recover as quickly as possible. Based on the internet's advice, he ordered a humidifier for the room. He picked up the grocery delivery from the front door and looked over what Pepper had ordered. Teabags, fancy popsicles, bread, crackers, juice, ginger ale, VitaminWater, three different kinds of vegetarian soup. Half of this stuff never would have occurred to Tony; he was glad he'd delegated. 

He saw that she had in fact ordered a pre-made French silk pie for him, but there also seemed to be a variety of ingredients that one could probably use to make a pumpkin pie. But Thanksgiving wasn't for another week; he had time to figure that out. He put everything away and made himself some coffee. Then he saw that the humidifier had been delivered too, so he took that and his coffee and went back up to Bruce's room. He set up the humidifier and managed to make some small headway on his grading when Bruce called out, an incoherent moan.

Tony walked over to Bruce's bedside and saw that Bruce was still asleep, but thrashing around. Should he wake him from the nightmare? Or let him sleep? Bruce mumbled something that sounded a lot like, "Please." Tony thought about his own nightmares, how painful and disorienting they were. He'd rather be woken up from them then to let them drag on.

Tony didn't want to touch Bruce, who'd nearly jumped out of his skin when Tony had tapped him awake in the car. Tony said, softly at first, "Bruce? Hey, Bruce? Bruce!"

Bruce sat bolt upright in bed. He tried to take a deep breath and ended up triggering a coughing fit. Tony stood by helplessly. He offered Bruce a bottle of water once the coughing subsided. 

"Sorry," Bruce said miserably.

"Shh, Bruce, nothing to apologize for. You're sick."

"I thought—I—I heard—" Bruce looked around with wide glassy eyes. "A dream, I guess. Sorry."

"What did I _just_ say about apologizing?"

"Sor—uh." Bruce looked up at him helplessly, and Tony had to laugh. 

"Okay. Well, you're safe. Since you're up, do you want anything to eat? Drink?" Bruce just stared. "Soup? Popsicle? Tea? Ginger ale? You want tacos? I can call out."

"You don't have to do this."

"Do what? Feed you? You want me to just go drop you off in your car so you can starve to death alone? Well, I'm not doing that. So yeah, I do have to feed you, because I don't trust you to take care of yourself right now," Tony snapped. He regretted his tone when Bruce's eyes began to fill with tears. Tony sighed. He reached out and squeezed Bruce's uninjured left hand. "Hey, sorry, Bruce. I'm just...scared, okay? People die from pneumonia, you know."

Bruce sniffled, started a pathetic coughing fit, and finally managed to say, "Like, old people."

"Well, let's make sure you live to become an old person, okay? Now, let's try again. Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

Bruce wiped his eyes with the back of his left hand and licked his lips, which Tony noticed were chapped and flaky. He made a note to get him some chapstick. Finally he said, "Some tea? Please?"

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Tony handed Bruce a box of tissues and said, "I'll be right back. Don't die while I'm gone. It's strictly forbidden."

Bruce managed a weak laugh. He was still sitting upright, propped against the pillows, when Tony returned with tea and crackers. Bruce ignored the crackers, but he held the cup carefully with his left hand and took some sips, looking exhausted from the effort. Tony texted JARVIS to ask about Bruce's meds—he'd asked the AI to stay quiet, because Tony didn't want to freak Bruce out by adding another voice into the mix just now—and he dosed Bruce accordingly.

"Thanks, Tony, you're really...thanks."

"You're welcome, Bruce." He eyed his fading friend. "You gonna go back to sleep?"

"Mm…"

"Good. Rest up, I'll be here if you need anything."

Bruce nodded. He set down his mug and closed his eyes. Tony found an unused chapstick in the bathroom cabinet and put it on Bruce's bedside table. He tried to get back to work, but was relieved by a distraction in the form of a text from Pepper. _How's your friend doing? It looks like your order was delivered. You need anything else?_

Tony: _Everything got here, thanks. Bruce is okay. Just annoyingly stubborn._

Pepper: _LOL. I can't imagine what that's like, trying to take care of an annoyingly stubborn person ;)_

Tony: _I don't know what you're implying._

Pepper: _Remember when you refused to go to the doctor unless we could stop at Burger King first?_

Tony: _Well, I was hungry._

Pepper: _And how the second I turned my back, you'd run off to your workshop and ignore all of the doctor's orders about your restrictions?_

Tony: _Okay, that doctor was just really overprotective._

Pepper: _LOL_

Tony: _:(_

Pepper: _If things get too bad, let me know and I might reveal some of my trade secrets for tricking stubborn idiots into taking naps._

Tony: _...Thanks._

Pepper: _:)_

Tony put his phone down and went back to staring at his computer. He got a minor amount of work done before Bruce again stirred, obviously troubled by fever dreams. This time, Tony dragged a chair over to Bruce's bedside. He awakened Bruce and reached out to hold his left hand. "It's okay. You're safe," he said. Tony knew all too well what it was like to awaken from a nightmare, unsure of where he was or who else might be there. He assumed that Bruce's fever made things that much worse.

Bruce sat up and coughed, eventually catching his breath. "I'm sorry, I'm a mess."

"Bruce, what did I tell you about apologizing?" Tony asked sternly.

Bruce closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Here, have some water while you're up. You're supposed to stay hydrated." Bruce winced as he swallowed, and Tony remembered Bruce's sore throat. "Do you want a popsicle? Would that be easier?"

"Uh...maybe? Yeah?"

Tony squeezed his hand. "I'll be right back." He brought the whole box up. "I didn't know what flavor you'd want," he explained.

Bruce blinked. He reached out and took one at random. He looked at it and frowned. "Not red...sick of red." 

Tony helped him take a lime one instead, then said, "Red isn't a flavor, though."

"Cough drops are red flavor."

"They're cherry."

Bruce shook his head and sucked on the lime popsicle. "Red."

"Fine, I'll eat it." Tony unwrapped the red one. "It's strawberry." He took another bite. "Maybe it is cherry? Okay, you're right, it's just red."

Bruce grinned and stuck out a green tongue. "Told you."

Bruce ate the rest of his popsicle. He held the stick with his left and looked around. Tony gently took it and dropped it in the bedside trash can. He was so relieved to see any sign that Bruce was feeling better. "You want another one?"

Bruce nodded and took a grape one. "Thanks."

After he ate it and declined a third, Tony took the box back down to the kitchen. While he was down there, he ordered a mini-refrigerator/freezer to be delivered upstairs so that he wouldn't have to keep making so many trips. He'd half-expected Bruce to be asleep again when he got back up to the room, but Bruce was still sitting up. He'd even put his glasses back on.

"How are you feeling?" Tony asked.

Bruce shrugged. "Better." His voice was still weak and his eyes were glazed over, but his cough did seem to be improving.

"But still bad?"

Bruce shrugged and nodded.

Tony asked, "You want to watch a movie or something?"

"Okay," Bruce said, and he started trying to get out of bed.

"No, stop it, there's a projector in here," Tony said, pointing up at the ceiling. "You can stay in bed. You _should_ stay in bed."

"Oh. Cool."

"What are you in the mood to watch?"

Bruce shrugged. Tony didn't know why he'd expected anything else. He pulled up a cheesy 80s sci-fi movie and was pleased when Bruce laughed at the effects. About halfway through, he noticed that Bruce had closed his eyes.

"Hey, want me to turn the movie off?"

"No...I'm listening."

"Okay."

Tony kept one eye on the movie and one eye on Bruce. Bruce seemed sort of in and out of it throughout the movie. When it ended, Tony waited for a moment to see if Bruce was awake. Bruce mumbled, "Sounds like the good guys won."

"Yup." Tony reached out and pressed a hand to Bruce's forehead. His fever seemed lower, but Tony should probably dig up a thermometer to put a numerical value on that. There must be one around here somewhere.

Bruce sighed.

"Hey, you up to drinking anything?" Tony asked. "Water, juice, tea? Tequila? Just kidding, you're not supposed to have alcohol with your meds."

Bruce snorted. "Okay."

"Okay, what?"

Bruce sat up and peered at the bedside table. "Water's fine." He took several sips. He swiped chapstick over his lips, too. "Thanks."

"Bruce, can—can I ask you a question?" Tony didn't want to add to Bruce's stress, but he was dying to know.

"You just did," Bruce said with a faint smirk.

"Funny." If Bruce could make jokes, he could probably answer a question. "Why didn't you _tell_ me where you were living?"

"I guess...I was embarrassed," Bruce mumbled.

"But Bruce, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. _I'm_ the one who should be embarrassed, living here in this big house with plenty of extra space. You know I would have wanted you to stay here, don't you?" After a silence, he repeated, "Don't you?"

"You said...you were tired of people asking you for favors."

"Bruce, what the fuck. Yeah, I'm tired of, of random people asking me to invest in their dumb juice blender startups or whatever. I would never be tired of _actual friends_ asking for _actual help_ that they needed."

"Oh." 

"Seriously, do you understand what a stupid asshole I feel like?"

Bruce blinked. "You're not...that. You're a good friend, Tony. Really good."

"If that were true, I think I would have realized that my friend was fucking homeless, Bruce."

"Sorry," Bruce whispered.

"Stop apologizing!"

"Then what do you want me to say?"

"I— _I'm_ sorry, Bruce. I'm just...worried. And frustrated. But I'm glad you're here now." Bruce nodded warily. Something struck Tony. "Wait, is this why—is this why you were so cagy about dating me?"

"Well, yeah," Bruce said, his tone implying an unsaid _obviously_.

"What do you mean? You think I wouldn't want to date you if—if I knew you didn't have anywhere to live?"

"I meant, I didn't want you to know, and I didn't think I could get much closer to you without you finding out. The night you wanted to give me a ride home...really freaked me out."

Tony thought back to that night. This information did put things in perspective. He quickly cycled through being angry at himself for not noticing and angry at Bruce for hiding. But then he looked again at Bruce's pitiful face, and _then_ he let out a deep breath and decided that neither of those feelings were productive right now. "Okay. Well, I—I hope you know now that you can trust me, Bruce. I care about you, and I want you to be safe." Bruce's eyes again brimmed with tears. "Oh, god, Bruce, what's wrong?" 

Bruce gasped for breath. "Nothing. Sor—nothing. I'm just—I've been so tired for so long, and I didn't...I'm just...thank you." 

Tony squeezed Bruce's hand. "Hey. You can rest now. Actually, wait, let me get you more cough syrup, and then you can rest. Okay?"

"Okay." Bruce sniffed and took a tissue. Tony brought over his medicine and Bruce took it. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. And, Bruce?"

"Yeah?"

"I want you to know that you can stay here as long as you want. And when you're feeling better, we'll figure out...if we can negotiate your contract with the university. Or something. Because this isn't fair. But right now I just want you to worry about getting better, okay?"

Bruce took a few unsteady breaths. "Okay. Thanks, Tony."

"Don't mention it." Tony plucked Bruce's glasses off his face and stroked his hair. "Get some rest. I'll be here if you need anything."

"You're a good friend," Bruce murmured, and Tony vowed to make sure that was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pure wish fulfillment because when _I_ had pneumonia I just kept a bag of tangerines in my bed for a week because I couldn't cope with the 15-foot journey to the kitchen. A bedside popsicle mini-freezer would have been _the dream_.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading up to this point and thanks so much for your kind comments! They have been the highlight of my week ♥ Take care and have a lovely weekend. I'll be back with chapter 7 on Monday.


	7. Economy & Society

Bruce jerked awake and sat up in a state of total disorientation. It was dark, but he was in a bed. A soft bed. At Tony's house. He swallowed, then brought his left hand to his sore throat. His right hand was throbbing, and the rest of his body felt achy and shivery. Then he remembered he had better medicine for this now. He fumbled for his glasses in the dark, hoping they'd help him find a light switch or something. Instead, he heard a clatter and realized he'd knocked all of his pills to the floor. He let out a groan of frustration.

Then the lights turned on, and Tony, looking sleepy and disheveled, appeared by his side. "Hey, Bruce. How are you feeling?"

"S-sorry."

" _Bruce_."

"I didn't mean to wake you. I—" Bruce blinked and looked around the room. "Were you sleeping in here?" Tony pointed at the couch. "You shouldn't—I don't want you to get sick."

"The doctor said you'd stop being contagious after you were on antibiotics for 24 hours," Tony said breezily. Bruce squinted. He'd been pretty out of it but he didn't think it had been that long yet. Tony added, "Also the couch is all the way across the room. It's fine. I wanted to be here if you needed anything. Which it seems like you do." Tony reached out and touched his forehead. It felt cool and reassuring, and Bruce closed his eyes and leaned into it, despite his earlier protestations. "Feels like your fever's back up," Tony said. "Oh, I found a thermometer, here." He pressed a thermometer into Bruce's hand and bent down to pick up Bruce's bottles of pills.

Bruce stuck the thermometer into his mouth while Tony looked at his phone and picked out pills. The thermometer beeped and Tony took it and frowned. "It's 102, which is better than this afternoon but...not great, Bruce."

"Sorry." Bruce wrapped his arms around himself and tried not to shiver. He was so pathetic. Tony sighed. He moved behind Bruce on the bed and wrapped his arms around him. "I'm contagious," Bruce protested.

"I'll get sick or I won't," Tony said. "I just want you to feel better. Would it make you feel better if I left?"

"No," Bruce whispered as he shivered and sagged against Tony. It really did feel nice to be held. He tried to hold back the cough that was building in his lungs, but it finally had to burst out of him.

"Oh, god, your medicine," Tony said. He rubbed a hand against Bruce's shoulders before moving away from him. He presented a series of medicines to Bruce, who choked them all down. "You'll feel better soon. Then we can hit the town for a night out. Go clubbing with the undergrads."

Bruce managed a weak laugh at that terrible idea. "Uh huh."

"Until then, get some rest."

"I haven't been doing anything _but_ resting."

"Well, you need more. It's prescribed."

"Mm." Bruce took his glasses off and set them back on the bedside table, careful of the pill bottles. He laid back down on the soft stack of pillows. Tony laid down next to him. "Tony, 'm contagious," Bruce repeated.

"I'm just gonna rest here for a minute," Tony said with a yawn. 

"Suit yourself," Bruce said. "But if you get sick I don't think I'm going to be able to take you to the doctor."

"I'll just steal your prescriptions."

"Sounds good," Bruce agreed sleepily.

Bruce drifted back to sleep. But a few hours later, he was jostled awake. He blinked in the darkness, and as his eyes adjusted he realized that Tony was tossing and turning violently. "Tony? Hey, Tony? _Tony?_ "

Tony sat up with a gasp. "No—don't—oh. God, I'm sorry, Bruce."

Bruce reached out and tentatively put his left hand on Tony's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. Just a nightmare." He remembered what Tony had told him, about what he'd been through on his trip to Afghanistan.

Tony sat up and panted for breath. "I—I'm sorry I woke you. You need to rest."

"I've been resting. Hey, breathe. Breathe. You're okay. Except you might catch pneumonia." 

Tony laughed and burrowed his head against Bruce's shoulder. "I took extra vitamin C."

Bruce hesitated. He thought about how nice it felt when Tony touched his hair. Maybe Tony would like it if he did the same thing? It was embarrassing how little practice Bruce had with being intimate with another human. But he reached out and stroked Tony's hair. It was sticky with some kind of product, but Tony sighed happily and Bruce kept going. It was nice to feel like he could give Tony even a fraction of the comfort Tony had given him.

"I'm glad you're here," Tony murmured. 

"Me too," Bruce agreed. He closed his eyes again. It was harder to get comfortable when he was worried about Tony, but Bruce didn't want to disturb him.

Sounding half-asleep, Tony said, "You know you can trust me, right?" Bruce hesitated. Tony said, "I—I'm not like that guy. That guy that people think I am. I know what people think I am. I guess...I wanted you to know."

"Yeah. I know."

"Okay." Tony yawned. "Just wish...you would have told me."

Bruce was half-asleep too, but he followed what Tony meant. He really hadn't thought of what he'd been doing as lying to Tony, but he supposed it sort of was. "I'm sorry, Tony," he said, and for once Tony didn't stop him from apologizing. "It's just...I guess...I'm just not used to anyone...caring about me." 

He realized it sounded pathetic as he said it, but it was true. The way Tony had treated him...the only person who had ever cared for Bruce like that had been his mom, and even then, she'd always had to hide it or pull back, for fear of making his father jealous. Since his parents' deaths fifteen years ago, he'd had a few half-hearted attempts at dating, but he'd never been this vulnerable with anyone. He probably wouldn't have been this vulnerable with Tony if he hadn't been out of his mind with pain and sleep deprivation. Even so, he held back from telling Tony everything.

Tony took in a deep breath. "Well...get used to it."

"I'll...try."

Tony burrowed in closer to Bruce, moving his face from Bruce's shoulder to his chest. Bruce immediately felt the pressure on his chest, but he didn't want to shove Tony off of him, not after that sweet conversation. But it was getting harder and harder for him to breathe. He coughed. And coughed again.

"Oh my god, I'm crushing your lungs, aren't I?" Tony asked.

"Mmph," Bruce admitted.

Tony rolled off of him immediately. "You should have said so, you...dork."

"Yeah," Bruce agreed.

"Good night, Bruce."

"G'night." Bruce fell back to sleep, comforted by Tony's presence even as he worried about infecting his friend. When he awoke in the morning, Tony was back over on the couch. But as soon as he saw that Bruce was awake, Tony smiled and came right over to sit by Bruce's side.

"Hey, feeling any better?" Tony asked.

Bruce nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." Then he coughed, but it didn't last as long or hurt his ribs as badly as it had before.

Tony snorted and counted out Bruce's medicine. "Yeah, you sound great."

"I _am_ feeling better," Bruce said.

"Good. You still have to take the full week's course of antibiotics."

"Yeah, of course."

Tony smiled. He took Bruce's temperature and found it was down to 101. "You're a good patient. What do you want for breakfast?"

"Uh...maybe some tea?"

"Any food?" Bruce shrugged in response. His throat still hurt and he felt achy and not at all hungry. "I'll bring popsicles."

"Thanks, Tony."

They ate, and Bruce felt the medicine and frozen fruit juice work their magic on him. He chewed on his cracked, chapped lower lip and said, "Tony, I, um, I know you don't want me to apologize, but I really am sorry for not telling you what was going on with me. I—I wasn't thinking about how it might hurt you." 

Tony's deep brown eyes softened. "I get why you didn't want to tell me, Bruce. Uh, my TA, Riri, is always telling me to 'check my privilege' but I guess I'm sort of still learning how to do that. I just hate knowing that I could have helped you sooner."

Bruce laughed, and wheezed, and laughed some more while Tony looked on with amused concern. He caught his breath and said, "I imagine it doesn't come easy. But thanks for trying."

Tony cleared his throat and said, "Hey, uh, on that note—I mean, I know it's generally considered 'impolite'"—punctuated with air quotes—"to talk about money, so if this is too rude, just tell me to fuck off, but can I ask...well, do you have a lot of, uh, student loans, or...what?"

Bruce laughed, again, this time at the way Tony pronounced "student loans" like it was a foreign language. Which it probably was, to him. He took a sip of tea and decided he might as well answer honestly. Tony seemed curious, not judgmental—and anyway, the basic truth was already out. The particulars of Bruce's financials weren't any more embarrassing than the basic fact that he lived in his car. "Not really, no. I had scholarships and assistantships through grad school. I had a few small loans for some other expenses but my payments aren't that much. It's really just that rent out here is _so_ high and there are so few available rental units. I mean, I make more at Shield than I did at the University of Iowa, but there my rent was $600."

"A...month?"

"Yeah. For like, a normal apartment. Out here, to get together the security deposit plus first and last...well, it's a lot more than that, even for an illegal closet of a sublet, and I didn't have that much in savings when I moved out here. So I kind of thought, well, it's warm enough that I can just stay in my car for a little while to save up...but even now that I have the savings, there just isn't anything even remotely reasonable on the market."

"And there weren't...I mean, student housing?"

Bruce shrugged. "I'm not a student. I think there are a few apartments open to junior faculty but there's a waitlist, of course."

"Of course," Tony echoed. He looked around the luxurious guest room and sighed. "Seriously, how can you stand me?"

"What?" Bruce blinked. "It's not your fault."

"It's just not fair," Tony said, sounding much younger than he was.

"Life isn't fair," Bruce said. It was something he'd learned at an early age.

"I guess not. But it should be!" From anyone else, it would have been an offhanded, wistful comment. From Tony, it sounded like a determined statement of intent.

"Yeah, it should be."

"Let's fix it," Tony said. And again, he sounded serious.

Bruce smiled. "Okay. But I might need another nap first."

Tony's facial expression transformed from determined to concerned. "Sorry, I'll let you rest."

"No, not—I mean, I just woke up. I meant more, uh, metaphorically."

Tony nodded. "Oh. Right. Yeah, we'll wait until you finish your antibiotics at _least_ before we disrupt the corrupt world order."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Then, if you're feeling up to it, could I introduce you to someone?"

Bruce winced and touched his greasy, sweaty hair. "Maybe after a shower?"

"Oh! He won't judge how you look. And you look fine anyway."

"Uh, okay?"

"I didn't want to overwhelm you yesterday, but, I want you to meet JARVIS."

Bruce looked around expectantly, and then a disembodied, British-accented voice said, "Hello, Dr. Banner."

"Um...hello, JARVIS?"

Tony beamed. "JARVIS is the AI who runs the house. He can help you out with anything, if I'm not around."

"Oh. Cool. Nice to meet you, JARVIS." 

"I can assist you with lighting, climate, directions, and provide you with other information."

"Do I have to say anything special? Like, uh, you know, 'Hey, Siri'?"

Tony looked alarmed. His tone soothing, he said, "JARVIS, he didn't mean it, he's very sick."

"Oh. Sorry. I—I didn't mean any offense. I don't have a lot of experience with, um, AIs. I had a flip phone until like, two years ago."

"It's quite alright, Dr. Banner," JARVIS said, though his tone definitely seemed frosty. "I am _much_ more sophisticated than packaged home assistant technologies currently available on the consumer market. I do not require a particular codeword to be activated, though it is always pleasant to be greeted by name."

"Of course. That makes sense. Sorry, JARVIS." Bruce apologized again, feeling a flutter of anxiety at the idea that the AI was somehow upset with him.

"Think on it no further. The matter is forgotten," JARVIS said, and the bedside lamp flicker off and back on in an approximation of a wink.

Bruce nodded and turned a questioning eye on Tony, who smiled reassuringly. "The main thing to know is, I gave all your prescriptions to JARVIS, so he can remind you when it's time for your next dose."

"Oh! Wow."

Tony's eyebrows furrowed. "I hope you don't mind. Everything JARVIS knows is strictly confidential. And I kind of needed his help because I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep track of everything myself...I'm not always the most detail-oriented guy. But maybe I should have asked first?"

"Um, no, I don't mind. I mean, other tech companies probably already have my whole life story, what's one more?" Bruce replied, with a weak laugh/cough.

"No, no, your personal data is safe here. JARVIS is locked down. I just didn't think about it until just now, that it might be, uh, kind of weird. I...I don't introduce a lot of people to JARVIS."

"It's...fine. Thank you both." Bruce coughed again.

Tony said, "Anyway, a shower. I'll get you some fresh clothes and a cover for your hand." Bruce looked down at his hand and Tony added, "You're not supposed to get the stitches wet for the first few days."

"Right. Yeah." Bruce bit his lip. "I—I'm really glad you were there, Tony, I guess I was pretty out of it."

Tony gave a lopsided grin. "Yes, you were. I'm glad I was there too." He reached out and squeezed Bruce's left hand. "I'll be right back."

He returned quickly with a bundle of clothes for Bruce. "Here. You can keep these, and I got you some more new underwear, I'll leave it in your dresser. You can leave the old clothes in the hamper in your bathroom. There's towels and everything in there...if anything is missing you can call out to JARVIS. Unless...uh, do you think you'll need help?"

Bruce hoped not. He really didn't want his first time getting naked with Tony to be because he was too physically weak to bathe himself. "I'll be fine," he said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.

"Okay. Well...I'll wait out here, and if you need anything, just say so. JARVIS'll let me know if he can't take care of it himself." Bruce nodded. He opened his mouth to ask a question, then decided against it. Tony smiled knowingly and said, "JARVIS doesn't have any cameras in the bathroom, but he can pick up auditory cues."

"Um. Yeah. Good to know." Bruce scooped up his change of clothes and went to the en-suite bathroom. He'd used it once before and had been surprised by just how big the room felt; or more accurately, by how easily winded he got when walking. He closed the door and sat down on the toilet for a moment to rest before attempting to shower. 

When he finally got in the shower, he gasped at how good the hot water felt on his skin. And breathing in the steam felt amazing. He stood in the shower for as long as he could bear it. The only downside was that the quietness gave his mind time to wander. He thought about his car, and when he might be able to go get it and his things out of it. He thought about how weird it would be to move in with a guy before he even really started dating him—if that was what was happening. Or if it wasn't...what was he going to do next? He took a deep, steamy breath and reminded himself that Tony seemed very sincere about his offer of housing. It wasn't that Bruce had reason to doubt Tony specifically, just that Bruce had reason to doubt any crumb of kindness the universe might throw him.

Finally, he pried himself out of the shower and needed to take another break before he could try to dry off and dress himself. Tony's pajamas were so soft, made out of some kind of cotton that normal people didn't have access to. And the boxer-briefs Tony had brought him, still new with tags on them, were the most comfortable (and most expensive) underwear he'd ever worn. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but Tony looked visibly relieved when Bruce came back out of the bathroom.

"How was it?" Tony asked.

"Really good," Bruce said. "But, uh, I know this is pathetic, but I do think I need a nap now."

"Bruce. It's not pathetic. You're _very sick_. You need to rest so you can recover. Just rest, we'll figure everything else out later, okay?"

Bruce burrowed back into the incredibly soft bed. "Okay," he agreed, and somehow Tony made him believe that they really could figure everything else out later.


	8. Topics in Nutrition Research

Tony watched as Bruce fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. For a moment, Tony was tempted to climb into bed next to him—Tony had slept poorly the night before, for his own reasons as well as because of Bruce. He was a little embarrassed to think that he'd let his own nightmares wake up Bruce, who clearly needed to rest. It felt selfish that he'd sought out comfort from someone so ill. But...Bruce hadn't seemed to mind. 

Still, Tony decided against joining Bruce in bed at the moment. He had some things he needed to do, and he figured he had a few hours to get them done. Poor Bruce seemed to wake up like clockwork whenever his cough medicine wore off, and Tony asked JARVIS to remind him a few minutes before Bruce's next doses were due.

Then he went down to the kitchen, brewed a big pot of coffee, and asked JARVIS to get some data for him. Tony sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and manipulating holographic data with increasing concern. He supposed he'd known that he was somewhat sheltered from certain financial realities, but as he looked at the average rents in the area compared to the average salaries, he simply couldn't understand how anyone was supposed to live in Southern California. Were all of the other professors at Shield Academy homeless? He suddenly wouldn't be surprised to learn that was true.

He paced around the kitchen and called Pepper. "Hey, Tony, how's your sick friend?"

"Getting better. But—I just found out he's homeless. Can you believe it?"

"Considering I don't know anything else about him, sure. Also, I think the preferred term is 'unhoused.'"

"House, home, whatever, he's been living in his _car_."

"It's because 'homeless' puts the label on the person experiencing homelessness, while 'unhoused' puts the label on society for failing to house this person," Pepper explained calmly.

"Exactly! Society is failing!" Tony sputtered. "He's a college professor. And a yoga teacher. He has _two_ jobs and he lives in his car. How is that fair?"

"Well, Tony, I hate to tell you, but life isn't fair."

"That's exactly what Bruce said! I—Pepper, I've been looking at these numbers and I can't believe it. How does anybody live here?"

"Well...a lot of people who live here are unhoused, Tony," Pepper said patiently. "Even professionals. It's a major crisis."

"Nobody at SI, right? We pay people enough to live here, don't we?"

"It's great that you're looking into this now that you don't have the power to do anything about it," Pepper said drily. "But yes, at least at the time you were CEO, all SI employees were paid a livable wage considering the cost of living for the area, including support staff."

"Oh. Good. Somebody would have told me if they weren't, right?"

"Right."

"So what should I do?"

"Uh...do you want me to get your friend in at a shelter? I think there are waitlists but I'm sure we could pull some strings."

"What? No, Bruce is staying with me."

"Indefinitely? Even after he gets better?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure about that? How well do you know him?"

"Well enough."

"Tony, I hate to say it, but you thought you knew Obadiah Stane, too."

Tony bit his lip. "I...this is different." He'd known Stane for a long time, it was true, but he'd been Howard's friend first. Not like Bruce.

"Well, if you say so. And you don't...mm...you're not used to sharing your space, Tony."

"I don't mind sharing it with the right people. And there's more than enough space here for him."

After a pause, Pepper said, "Tony, is Bruce your friend or your boyfriend?"

"Well—we're not—let's not get hung up on _labels_."

"Uh-huh. How long have you been dating him?"

"I—well, I tried to ask him out the first time I met him, which was the first day of school, but he wasn't exactly open to that. Which it turns out is because he didn't want me to know he was homeless. But now things are different!"

Another pause. "So you're asking him to move in with you before you've actually started dating?"

"Not...I mean...I guess."

"So...you see how that's weird, right?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" He frowned. "Wait, can I just buy an apartment and rent it to him for a normal price? Is that weird? It would only be weird if he found out about it."

"That would also be weird. No, I'm just saying, that it's a lot of...pressure...to put on a new relationship. Especially when most of your past relationships have been...on the short side," Pepper said tactfully.

"This one is different, Pepper. He's different. I...I think I'm different, too."

"Okay. Well, then there's also the matter of your, what's his name? Bruce?"

"Bruce."

" _Bruce_ might feel like his housing is now contingent on his...relations with you. You should be aware of the power imbalance in your relationship."

"Well, no, he can stay even if he…he can stay no matter what." Tony was a little surprised at how strongly he felt that Bruce should stay with him forever.

"For how long?"

"I—" Tony blinked. 

"For how long would you want to keep living with your ex, Tony?" Pepper repeated. He didn't want to think about it. He and Bruce hadn't even really started dating yet, how could he jump straight to a breakup?

"Pepper…"

"I'm just saying, you should think about it and maybe get something in writing before you make this big step," Pepper said gently. "To protect both of you."

"Like a...prenup?"

"I was thinking like a lease, Tony."

"Oh. Oh! Right. But I don't want him to pay rent. That's...stupid. Oh, god, Pepper, he's been buying me lunch! A homeless person has been buying me lunch," he moaned. "I mean, unhoused. An unhoused person has been buying me lunch!"

"Calm down, Tony. I'm sure the price of your sandwich wasn't what was keeping him on the streets."

"But sometimes I got guac!" Tony wailed.

Pepper laughed and Tony could hear her hair rustling as she shook her head at him. "Anyway, you can put no rent in the lease, then. Or ask for a token amount. Just something so that expectations are clear and in writing. And figure out how much notice you want to give him before asking him to move out. _If_ it comes to that. Do you want me to have Matt put something together for you?"

"I...yeah, I guess," Tony said. "Thanks."

"No problem. Just send me his full name and contact information. I...I'm glad you found someone you care about, Tony. I hope it all works out."

"Thanks," Tony said, wishing he didn't detect skepticism in her tone.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Actually...can you come by here sometime? I'd like for you to meet him."

"I thought he was sick."

"He is, but they said he won't be contagious anymore after he's on antibiotics for 24 hours. I just...well, I guess maybe, now that you mention it, it wouldn't hurt to have a second opinion about him."

"Tony, I can't be the arbiter of who you should date. That is _not_ in my job description."

"No, I know, but you're a good judge of character. Your tolerance for me notwithstanding. I value your opinion."

Pepper sighed. "Fine...I can bring the paperwork by tomorrow and drop in to meet him."

"Thanks, Pepper, you're the best."

"I know," she said, and hung up.

Tony put his phone in his pocket and continued to flip through local data. He drank more coffee and grew increasingly agitated with the injustice of it all. There had to be something he could do about this. Something besides inviting all of the area's unhoused population to move in with him, because Pepper was right—he really wasn't used to sharing his space. 

JARVIS interrupted him by announcing, "Master Stark, Dr. Banner's next dosages will be indicated in ten minutes."

"Thanks, J, I'll be right up."

Tony opened the fridge and took out a cup of yogurt, hoping he could convince Bruce to eat it. When he reached Bruce's guest room, he was surprised to hear voices. He opened the door and saw that Bruce was sitting up in bed, his damp curls in an endearing mess of bedhead.

"—Very Intelligent System," JARVIS said. "But really, Master Stark named me for the butler his family employed when he was a child."

"Oh, wow," Bruce said politely. He coughed and waved at Tony in the doorway. "Hey, Tony. I was just, uh, getting to know JARVIS."

"JARVIS, why didn't you tell me Bruce was awake?" Tony scolded. "Were you two plotting against me?" As soon as he said it, he felt a flicker of suspicion, and hated himself for having it. But what would Bruce want to talk to JARVIS about? Was he trying to steal trade secrets from SI? They'd be valuable to the right buyer.

JARVIS said, "My apologies, sir. My instructions were to notify you when it was time for Dr. Banner's medications, which I did."

Tony exhaled. "Oh. Yeah, you're right. I guess I assumed he wouldn't wake up before that."

"I might have reached my maximum capacity for sleep," Bruce said.

"Right. Well, sorry for abandoning you."

"It was nice talking to JARVIS," Bruce said politely. "I—I know you're busy, Tony, you don't have to spend all your time with me."

"And let JARVIS have all the fun?" Tony scoffed. He gave Bruce his medicine, then said, "Are you hungry? I brought you yogurt. You're supposed to have a probiotic with your antibiotic. Even though you'd think they would just balance out and make...biotics."

Bruce laughed, but he took the yogurt and ate it slowly.

"Still hungry?" Tony asked anxiously. "We have more food, just let me know what you want."

"Um, yeah, maybe."

"What are you in the mood for? Soup? Sandwich? Ice cream?" Bruce scrunched his nose and Tony tried to remember what other groceries Pepper had ordered. "Crackers? Applesauce?"

"Oh, yeah, maybe some applesauce. Thanks."

"Seriously? You must really be sick. When I was a little kid I'd always try to act like I was so sick that the only thing I could eat was ice cream. Did I say we have ice cream? Good flavors."

Bruce smiled. "Maybe I'm just really trying to sell my sick act, so you'll sign me out of school."

"It's Thanksgiving break, Bruce."

"Ah. I knew there was something wrong with my scheme. To be honest, when I was a kid I'd usually just go to school when I was sick anyway. I always hated to miss it."

Tony smiled. "Aww, what a nerd. Well, as an expert at skipping school, let me advise you...you could have just sneezed a couple of times and I would have let you skip school and eat ice cream. But, fine, I'll go get you some applesauce. And some ice cream for me."

"Thanks, Tony," Bruce said, his eyes shining. He really was so cute. And maybe feverish? Tony checked his temperature again before going back for more food.

After Bruce ate his bowl of applesauce, Tony nudged him into trying a few bites of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food.

"It's really...sweet," Bruce said. "Is this what you'd eat when you were a kid?"

"No, I don't think this was invented when we were kids. Mostly, when I was at home, uh, our cook made ice cream in the ice cream machine," Tony said, suddenly self-conscious. It was obvious that Bruce didn't come from money—though of course hardly anyone came from money the way Tony came from money. Still, he decided not to mention the pints of Haagen-Dazs he'd buy from the canteen at boarding school.

"Oh wow. What flavor?"

"My favorite was strawberry. She used to put really big chunks of fresh strawberries in it."

"That sounds good."

Tony took another bite of ice cream. "Yeah, I miss her."

Bruce nodded. "You don't have a cook now?"

"No...I don't know, it's not the same. I live alone, I eat out a lot. But Jarvis and Anna, I...I know it's a cliche, but they were family. Really, they were there for me more than my parents."

"Then I'm glad you had them," Bruce said simply. Tony knew that Bruce had said his household was abusive. He was curious to know more, but he didn't want to make Bruce uncomfortable by asking. Though the thought did recontextualize Bruce dragging himself to school sick into something less sweetly nerdy and more sinister. Bruce added, "JARVIS the AI was just telling me you named him after Jarvis, the butler. Maybe you could invent a food replicator and name it Anna."

"Amazing Nutritional Needs...um, Admiral," Tony said, trying it out. 

"Administrator?" Bruce suggested.

"Automat."

"Architect."

They joked back and forth, coming up with names for a device that wouldn't be technologically feasible for a few years. Unless...it was? Suddenly struck by inspiration, Tony pulled up a holographic whiteboard and started sketching out a schema for a food replicator. It was really just rearranging molecules.

Bruce looked on with wide eyes. "Whoa."

"Hmm? Oh, you know, JARVIS can help you with this kind of thing, if inspiration ever strikes you."

Bruce cast his eyes to the ceiling. "You're right, JARVIS, you're way better than a Siri."

"I'm so glad you understand that now, sir."

Even sick, Bruce's mind was dazzling, and he showed incredible intuition as he watched Tony sketch out his designs. He asked a few illuminating questions and offered a few suggestions. "I can't wait to build a prototype," Tony said.

"You can go do it now," Bruce said. "You—you really don't need to stay with me 24/7."

"Do you want me to go?" Tony asked, feeling sudden flashes of how his parents always scolded him to stop getting under their feet, to stay out of their way, to be seen and not heard.

"Oh, no, I just—I didn't want you to feel like you had to stay. I'm sure you have better things to do."

"Nah. Anyway, this design isn't really ready to go to prototype yet."

"Okay. Well—then, can I see this for a second?" Bruce grabbed for the hologram and made a small adjustment. 

Tony stared at it for a long moment. "Brilliant!" Bruce had looped the refrigerated air around so that in addition to keeping the replicated food fresh, it would cool down the processor, making the system more efficient.

Bruce gave him a shy smile. "Happy to help."

"Not as happy as I am to have you here." Tony smiled back, even as Bruce's eyes started to blink shut. "Rest up, this will still be here later."

"Mm," Bruce agreed sleepily. He drifted off while Tony started looking up research on food technologies. He was thrilled about his new project, and his new lab partner.


	9. Domestic Violence Intervention Strategies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for content warning.

Bruce and Tony were sitting up, side by side in the bed they'd shared the night before. This time, Tony hadn't even had the pretense of starting out on the couch. Bruce had woken up halfway through the night. He'd whispered to JARVIS for help, hoping that with a dim light and a bit of help from the AI, he could get his own medicine without disturbing Tony. But Tony had woken up and helped him without complaint. Tony was so kind and so smart, and they really seemed to be on the verge of a breakthrough with this food replicator, the kind of science fiction innovation that could help countless lives, eventually maybe even bringing an end to world hunger. It was so exciting to work on this kind of practical idea, a real change of pace from the slow progress he'd been making on his own, more abstract research.

Then JARVIS announced, "Ms. Potts is here, Master Stark."

"Oh, right, send her up!" Tony said, sounding distracted. He turned his gaze back to their holographic blueprint. "What about moving the power coupling over here?" he suggested, dragging it around the design with his index finger.

"Oh, yeah, even more efficient. Wow," Bruce said, marveling at it. He'd known, abstractly, that Tony was a genius, but it was amazing to watch his mind at work.

Then JARVIS slid open the door and a polished redheaded woman, wearing stiletto heels with her jeans and tailored blouse, entered the room. She was carrying a blue glass vase filled with cheerful sunflowers. Tony hopped up from the bed. "Hey, Pepper! Meet my friend Bruce. Bruce, this is Pepper, my personal assistant and life runner."

Bruce scooted to the edge of the bed, resting his feet on the ground. Pepper said, "Oh, no, Bruce, don't get up. I know you're sick. Here, these are for you." She set down the flowers on Bruce's beside table, behind all of the prescription bottles. After sitting down at the chair Tony had brought over to the bedside, she smiled and offered her perfectly-manicured hand for a shake.

Bruce winced and waved, showing his stitched-up right hand. "Sorry, I'm, uh, a mess."

"Oh yeah, in addition to the pneumonia, Bruce sliced up his hand," Tony said casually. "Did I not say that part?"

"You didn't, but I'm sorry to hear it," Pepper said warmly. "What a rough week."

"It would have been much worse without Tony around."

"I actually think you only cut your hand because I startled you in the hallway," Tony said. "So that's on me. But otherwise I'm not sure I could have gotten you to see a doctor, so I guess it cancels out."

"Like antibiotics and probiotics," Bruce replied. "But, um, Pepper, thank you for the flowers. That's...that's so nice of you."

She smiled and shook her head. "It's nothing, just thought you could probably use a little bit of color. Tony's interior design is so…"

"Stark?" Tony offered. Bruce laughed, and Pepper groaned.

"But also, Tony, Matt said you weren't returning his calls?" Pepper said. 

Tony picked up his phone and frowned at the screen. "Well, I've been busy. Bruce and I are on the verge of a real technological breakthrough—look!" He showed the schema to Pepper, who nodded politely.

"Be that as it may," Pepper said, "Your lawyer is very irritated with you, and you should go call him. Why don't I keep Bruce company while you do that?"

Tony gave Bruce a questioning glance, and Bruce smiled and nodded. "Tony, you should go do whatever this nice lady tells you to do."

Pepper smiled back at him. "Oh, I like you."

Tony collapsed the hologram and squeezed Bruce's left hand. "Okay. If you need anything, Pepper or JARVIS will help you. And if you're feeling up for it, maybe we'll have some soup when I get back?"

"You guys really do know how to party," Pepper said drily.

"Soup sounds good, thanks," Bruce said. It would be the most substantial food he'd had in a few days, but he was feeling ready for it.

"While I'm gone, don't do anything I wouldn't do," Tony called on his way out the door.

"I'm not sure how much that narrows things down," Bruce commented to Pepper. She laughed.

"I can see why Tony likes you," she said. "You're a good match for him."

Bruce shrugged, uncomfortable with that assessment. "I guess."

"So you teach at Shield too?"

"Yeah, physics."

"So that's how you met Tony?"

"Yeah...he sat next to me at the STEM faculty welcome lunch."

Pepper exhaled. "Look, Bruce, I'm sorry to do this, but I might as well get it over with," she said, and Bruce's stomach lurched. "You seem like a very sweet guy, but it's part of my job to protect Tony. I...I don't know if you've noticed, but as smart as he is, he's also sometimes very naive?"

Bruce nodded. "Yeah…"

"So...again, I really am sorry, but to be blunt, I just need to make sure you're not trying to take advantage of Tony."

Bruce shook his head. "No! Tony's been so nice to me. I—I haven't asked for any of this. He's just been very generous."

She smiled tersely. "Yeah. Tony's like that. It's just...I had a little background check run on you. I noticed you're going by your middle name?"

Bruce crossed his arms and nodded warily. "Robert" was what his father had called him, but he didn't trust himself to say so. Anyway, it wasn't a crime to go by his middle name. Was "Pepper" even _her_ real name?

Pepper continued, "And you seem to move around a lot."

"Just...trying to find a school that will give me tenure," Bruce said with a sigh. "I know it seems weird but it's pretty common for entry-level academics."

Pepper made a sympathetic sound and then added, "And there's a sealed record from when you were fifteen, and I just...could you tell me about it? I'm sure it was nothing, but…"

Bruce swallowed. He went through a quick cycle of emotions and ultimately felt an eerie sense of calm descend over him. No matter what his assorted crew of therapists had tried to tell him over the years, he'd never managed to fully convince himself that he could truly escape from what he'd done. Somehow, he'd always been preparing for this moment, dreading this moment, but now that it was here, he felt a sense of peace. 

For a little while, when Tony had accepted Bruce after learning about his unhoused state, Bruce had feverishly let himself believe that maybe his childhood could stay buried and he could be with Tony. But now his absolute worst secret was coming out. Now he'd really never be able to be with Tony.

Flatly, he said, "It wasn't nothing. You're right, I don't deserve Tony. I killed my father."

"You...what?"

"I killed my father," Bruce repeated calmly. "The record was sealed because I was a minor and it was ruled to have been an accident, in self defense. But I killed him." Bruce stared down at his injured hand, unable to look at Pepper. But at least he'd said what he needed to say.

"Self defense? So he—he hurt you?" Pepper sounded shocked, which was understandable. She'd feared that he wasn't good enough for Tony, but she'd had no idea how right she was.

Bruce nodded. "Often. And my mom. The day that I killed him—he killed her. I didn't realize until it was too late. That it was worse than usual. That he—that he wasn't going to stop. I just wanted him to stop. They were in the kitchen, and he was hitting her, and hitting her, and I pushed him away, and he slipped and hit his head on the counter at just the right angle...there was so much blood..." No, he'd been right before, when Tony had been having a panic attack in his office and Bruce, a coward, had told Tony that he couldn't talk about his childhood. He found that words were failing him entirely. Breathing wasn't working too well either.

"Oh my god, Bruce, I'm so sorry, I didn't—"

She tried to hug him, but Bruce flinched and held his hands out protectively. He needed space. He needed air. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing. He counted, in and out. He tried to fill his lungs deeply, the way he'd learned, the way he'd taught others to do. But he was still too sick to reach his full lung capacity, and it hurt to try. He coughed and gasped for breath like a fish out of water.

After a moment, he felt a tentative hand on his shoulder; he looked and saw that it was still Pepper, tears in her eyes. Bruce tried to say, "Excuse me," but the words didn't leave his mouth. He licked his lips and tried again, but still no words came out. He knew that in the long term, he'd have to leave Tony's house. But in the short term, he just had to have a moment to himself. He dragged himself out of bed and to the ensuite bathroom, locking the door behind him, then sat on the plush bath mat. He wrapped his arms around himself and dug his fingernails into his palms. He felt a trickle of blood and realized that he'd burst open his stitches. The pain brought him a moment of focus. He pulled off some toilet paper and pressed it to his reopened wound. 

He heard Pepper's voice just outside the door. "Bruce?"

He tried to answer but he couldn't get words to come. She sighed and continued, "Bruce, I'm so sorry I upset you. I truly—I—I can't imagine what you've been through, and I...it wasn't my intention to make you talk about something so painful. I'm so sorry."

He tried to say, "It's okay," but he just couldn't say anything. He must have seemed so petulant. He was embarrassed, but couldn't seem to do anything about it. 

Pepper said, "I'm going to get Tony, you'd probably rather talk to him. Okay, um, bye, Bruce, I'm really sorry!"

Moments later, he heard a knock on the door. Tony called, "Hey, Bruce? Are you okay? Pepper said you were upset."

Bruce struggled to make sense of this generic statement. Did that mean Pepper hadn't told him what he'd told her? Did that mean Bruce was going to have to repeat himself? He still wasn't sure he was capable of speech. He tried and managed a sound like a whimper. 

"Bruce? Would you open the door for me?"

After a moment, Bruce managed to gather the energy to open the bathroom door. He saw Tony standing there with a look of sincere concern on his handsome face. Bruce hesitated before throwing his arms around him.

"Hey," Tony murmured softly. He rubbed Bruce's back, and Bruce slumped against him, barely managing to stay on his feet. "C'mon, let's go sit down."

Tony guided Bruce back to the bed and Bruce curled up against him. The position hurt his chest but was otherwise reassuring. "What happened, Bruce? Is everything okay?"

Bruce let out a sob.

"Oh, Bruce. Okay, I'll take that as a 'no.'" Tony kept rubbing Bruce's back. It felt so nice, but Bruce wished that Pepper had just told Tony. He couldn't really enjoy this bit of comfort, not when Tony might want to take it back after he learned the truth.

Bruce cried into Tony's shoulder for a while before he managed to suck in a few breaths. "Tony...I…"

"Shh."

"No, I...I want you to...to know…but I can't..." Bruce took a few short, shallow breaths, trying to contain his tears. "JARVIS? Could you tell Tony what I told Pepper?"

"Are you certain, Dr. Banner?"

"Mm-hmm. Please." Bruce needed to get the truth out. He couldn't take any more of Tony's sympathy under false pretenses.

"Very well. Master Stark." JARVIS's synthesized voice sounded weary as he said, "Ms. Potts asked Dr. Banner about a sealed juvenile record. Dr. Banner informed Ms. Potts that when he was fifteen years old, his abusive father killed his mother. Dr. Banner attempted to defend his mother but in the process inadvertently ended his father's life. The incident was ruled to have been in self-defense. Obviously," JARVIS editorialized at the end.

"Oh my god, Bruce?" Tony asked. He tightened his arms around Bruce.

"I'm sorry," Bruce mumbled. He wasn't sure why Tony was hugging him, but he accepted it.

"Sorry for what?"

"That I didn't...tell you."

"Bruce, you told me—you told me that you had a bad childhood and that you didn't want to talk about it, and I...that was enough for me. You didn't owe it to me to tell me." Bruce gasped and coughed. Tony rubbed his back. He continued, "Look, I don't know what Pepper said to you, but I know she can be pretty...intense. But she means well. She...I told you a little bit, I think, about how, uh, my father's best friend betrayed me and stole my company?"

"Mmph."

"So. Yeah. I guess she and I are both a little paranoid right now. But I _told_ her that I could trust you. I didn't know she was going to...interrogate you."

"But...she was right. I'm a murderer," Bruce whispered. Who knew what else Bruce might do, if pushed? Surely it was better that he keep to himself.

"No, you are not," Tony said firmly. "You're a survivor. Which means you're not allowed to die from pneumonia." After a pause, he said, "Are you bleeding?"

"Maybe...a little."

" _Disaster_ ," Tony muttered. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up." They went back to the bathroom and Tony gently cleaned and bandaged his hand, though Bruce noticed Tony's hands were shaking. "We'll keep an eye on it, but you probably don't need to go back to the hospital. Unless you want to?"

Bruce shook his head. Tony breathed deeply.

"You okay?" Bruce asked.

"I just...don't really...like blood?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Bruce didn't especially like it either, but he'd made some progress on that front over the last fifteen years.

"Yeah, you're being very insensitive to my needs," Tony said drily. "C'mon."

As they walked back to the bed, Bruce asked, "Do you know where my bag is?" He was pretty sure he'd remembered Tony getting his messenger bag for him when they'd left for the hospital.

Tony opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled it out. "Thanks," Bruce said. He rummaged in the front pocket until he found his bottle of Ativan. He was about to swallow one, when he said, "Uh, JARVIS, if you have all my prescriptions, can you tell if anything would interact with lorazepam?"

After a moment, JARVIS said, "Combining lorazepam with codeine may have serious side effects."

Bruce groaned. "How serious?"

"What is that?" Tony asked.

"It's my anti-anxiety medication," Bruce said. 

JARVIS said, "I believe that if you took half your standard dose, just once, the odds of serious side effects would be low. The warnings appear to apply mainly to the ongoing combination."

"Thanks," Bruce said. He bit a pill in half and dry swallowed it, hoping it would take effect soon. He curled up against Tony, and realized that Tony didn't seem to be breathing quite steadily either. "You want the other half?" he offered.

"I would not advise that, sir," JARVIS said.

"I guess I'll pass," Tony said. 

Bruce felt the medication start to take effect after a few minutes. He bit his lip and asked, "So...you're not...you still want me to stay here?"

"Bruce, do you really think I'd hold this against you?" Tony asked.

"I mean, it's really fucked up."

"It's really fucked up _what your father did to you and your mom_ ," Tony said. "You didn't—you were a kid. You really don't...Bruce? Seriously?"

"I don't know. I mean, that's what my therapists have told me," Bruce said. "But…I..."

"Bruce, you're...an incredibly strong person," Tony said. "You've been through so much and you're so...gentle and kind. And smart. And cute."

Bruce let out a laugh/cough and Tony rubbed his back. Bruce decided he was too tired to keep protesting for the moment, and he curled up against Tony and closed his eyes. Bruce was half-asleep when JARVIS said, "Excuse me, sirs, but Ms. Potts is requesting entry. She says she comes bearing soup."

"What kind of soup?" Tony asked.

"Vegetarian pho," JARVIS announced.

"I like pho," Bruce said.

Tony said, softly, "You don't have to see Pepper, if you don't want to. I really didn't know she was going to ask you about that stuff. I can just tell her you're asleep."

Bruce shook his head. "It's okay. She can come in. I—I know she meant well. I just…" He burrowed his head more tightly against Tony's shoulder. Tony kissed his cheek.

"Okay," Tony murmured. Louder, he said, "Okay, J."

The door swung open. Bruce turned to watch as Pepper reentered the room, with a big plastic bag of takeout draped over one arm and a huge floral arrangement held between her two hands. She put the flowers on top of the dresser. Then, still holding the fragrant takeout, she turned to Bruce and said, "Bruce, I am _so_ sorry."

"It's okay," Bruce said. "You were right. You didn't—are those flowers for me?"

"Yes, of course."

"But you already got me flowers. And—and I'm—"

Pepper shook her head. "Those were 'Get well soon flowers.' _These_ are 'Sorry I was insensitive about your childhood trauma' flowers. Very different."

Bruce managed a weak laugh, followed by a cough.

"Oh god, I'm a monster," Pepper moaned.

"No, you're not," Bruce said. "I'm glad you're looking out for Tony. I just...I just can't really...it's hard for me to talk about—"

Pepper held out her hand. "Stop it! You don't have to talk about it! You haven't done anything wrong, Bruce, and I'm glad you're here."

"Oh." Bruce blinked. Maybe Tony and Pepper really weren't mad at him. 

"Do you want some soup?" she asked, with equal urgency.

"Okay," Bruce agreed. "Um, maybe we should eat at a table? Pho is kind of messy." He'd been eating in bed up until this point, which hadn't been a problem for his popsicle-heavy diet.

"I can get a tray," Pepper said.

"And we're going to have to change these sheets anyway, since you bled all over them," Tony said.

Pepper's eyes widened, and Bruce winced and held up his rebandaged hand. "Not really _all over_...just...a little."

"Oh my god. Okay, yeah, let's go to the dining room, then." Pepper led the way, still carrying the takeout bag. Tony guided Bruce down the beautiful winding staircase and didn't comment when Bruce had to pause about halfway down. He was out of breath from the effort, but his panic had subsided. Bruce had only had a half-dose of his anxiety medication but he was feeling surprisingly...assured. Tony and Pepper had both heard the worst parts of him and taken them in stride. They'd even comforted him. And he wasn't paying them for therapy, so...maybe they really meant it?

Bruce must have seen other parts of the house on his way in, but he'd been too out of it to process it. Now he had a better sense of the scale of Tony's house, of its big curving windows and proximity to the ocean, breathtaking even for those with healthy lungs. Once he was seated at the table and had had a moment to catch his breath, he said, "This is a really beautiful house, Tony. I might do a moderate crime in order to stay here."

Tony snorted. "I'm going to remember that next time I need someone to jaywalk for me."

"I think it'll be awhile before I'm up for that kind of exertion," Bruce said. "I could do a light Ponzi scheme for you, maybe. Some low-level white collar crime."

Tony laughed. Pepper set beautiful gold-trimmed ceramic bowls on the table and shook her head. "If Matt asks, I didn't hear any of this," she said.

"Don't worry, Pep, we're just kidding. Bruce and I are going to solve our problems with perfectly legal science!"

"That's reassuring," she said, with an exasperated smile. She put some noodles and vegetables in Bruce's bowl and topped it off with delicious-smelling broth from a separate container.

"Thanks," Bruce said.

Tony said, "Hey, why didn't you pour mine for me?"

" _You_ have two perfectly good hands, Tony," Pepper chided.

Tony gave a dramatic sigh and began preparing his own bowl of soup. Pepper said, "Bruce, you shouldn't wait, just go ahead and eat. This could take a minute."

"I don't mind waiting," Bruce said. When everyone had their bowls ready, he took a spoonful of broth, holding the spoon awkwardly with his left hand. It was the best thing he'd tasted all week, but he knew the warmth in his stomach came from more than the soup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warning** : This chapter is mostly what earns this fic its "Past Domestic Violence" and "Past Child Abuse" tags. It's not particularly graphic but it does feature Bruce describing a condensed version of his classic [comics childhood backstory](https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Bruce_Banner_\(Earth-616\)/Expanded_History), which, if you're not familiar with it, is...very nasty. The fic isn't any more graphic than that Marvel wiki page I just linked to, but it's a rough story. (One of my beta readers was only familiar with Bruce from the MCU and she was like, "WTF this is very dark?" and I was like, "Well, Marvel started it.")
> 
> It's a backstory that I usually try to at least sort of lighten up when I write MCU Bruce but I suppose the general aura of 2020 compelled me to include it. So, anyway, like I mentioned in the initial story notes, this fic is a little bit darker than the kinds of extremely fluffy stories I usually write, but for the standards of fanfic or even comics, it's not too dark, I don't think.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, take care ♥ If you live in the US, the [National Domestic Violence Hotline](https://www.thehotline.org/) is 1-800-799-7233


	10. Off-Campus Housing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a continuation of conversations begun in the previous chapter and thus has the same content warning as that chapter.

Tony finished his bowl of pho with satisfaction. He'd been hungrier than he'd realized, and the soup was so flavorful that he didn't even miss meat. He looked over at Bruce and saw that his bowl was still half-full. Bruce seemed to be struggling with holding the spoon in his left hand, and he looked exhausted.

"Bruce, you okay?'

"Hmm?" Bruce looked up and saw that Tony and Pepper were finished eating. "Oh! Sorry, I just...um, this was a lot of soup." He slowly brought another spoonful of broth to his lips.

"Let me know if you want any help."

Bruce's cheeks flushed, which might have been from fever or embarrassment. "I—thanks," he murmured. He dragged his spoon around his bowl and took another bite. "I might...might just be done for now. Sorry, it was really good, I'm just…"

"Sick as hell?" Tony suggested.

"I'm feeling better, but...yeah," Bruce agreed.

Pepper took Bruce's bowl. "I'll wrap this up so you can have it later, if you want," she said, despite her frequent protestations to Tony that housekeeping wasn't part of her job.

"Oh, um, thank you."

Pepper cleaned up the soup and said, "Well, unless you guys need anything else, I'm going to head out."

Tony nodded. "Thanks for coming over."

Pepper hovered next to Bruce's chair. "And Bruce, I really am _so sorry_." Tony wanted to talk to Pepper privately to hear exactly what she'd said to Bruce. She was usually so diplomatic. Tony felt responsible for what had happened—he'd asked for Pepper's opinion about Bruce. He should have known she'd do some kind of deep dive. Though how was he supposed to guess that she would have turned up something like _this_?

Bruce smiled shyly and shook his head. "Really, it's okay. I—I overreacted."

"Bruce, it's completely valid to be upset with me," she said. "Or just to be upset in general. You didn't overreact."

Bruce crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his hands into his armpits. He nodded. 

Pepper pursed her lips. "Would you like a hug?" Bruce looked up at her with wide eyes. She added, "It's fine if you don't want one."

After another moment, Bruce stood up from his chair. He stood still, his arms by his sides. Pepper smiled and wrapped her arms around him. Tony knew that Pepper gave very good hugs. Bruce tentatively lifted his arms and hugged her back. Then he pulled back quickly and tucked his hands into his pockets, looking awkward and yet extremely huggable.

Tony stood from the table. "I want one too," he insisted. He hugged Pepper and then Bruce, who still didn't seem completely relaxed. 

"Call me if you need anything," Pepper said.

"Always do," Tony replied.

After Pepper left, Bruce and Tony stood together in the dining room for a moment. Tony said, "How are you feeling? Do you want to go back to bed, or are you up for a change of scenery?"

"What do you mean?"

"We could go sit in the living room for awhile? Since we're downstairs."

Bruce said, "Oh. Okay. If you want to."

Tony picked up the folder Pepper had left on the table. He put an arm around Bruce's shoulders and guided him to the living room, where they settled on the big, curved sofa. The room's huge plate glass windows offered a lovely view of the beach. "This is nice," Bruce said tentatively.

"Yeah." Tony opened the folder and set the lease out on the coffee table. "Hey, there's something I want to talk to you about."

Bruce's shoulders stiffened, but he said, "Okay."

"This was Pepper's idea, and at first I thought it was weird, but I think maybe it's good, actually. Just to have something in writing." He offered the lease to Bruce, who looked at the first page and then up at Tony from under furrowed eyebrows.

"A lease?" Bruce said.

"Yeah. Just—just to lay out the terms of you living here, to have it all in writing. Take a look, we can make any changes you want before you sign it."

"You—you want me to live in your house for a fee of 'two tacos per month,'" Bruce asked flatly. "That's—Tony, you _know_ how much rent is around here."

"I'll take more tacos, if that would make you feel better. And if you're willing to let me win at Tetris a few more times."

"I can—I have money, Tony, I can pay rent. Sort of."

"Well, I have money too, Bruce. I _don't_ have tacos."

"The market value—"

"The value of my guest room is priceless, because I'd never offer it to anyone I didn't want to have it," Tony said. He exhaled. God, Bruce was stubborn. "Think of it this way. How much money would you charge for private tutoring?"

"I don't—"

"But if you did."

"I don't know. Twenty bucks an hour?"

Tony stared at Bruce. "Seriously?"

Bruce shrugged.

"Okay, well, your time is more valuable than that. If you were a consultant for SI, I'd have you invoice me for, oh, a thousand dollars an hour."

"That's—that's ridiculous."

"Okay, $1500." Bruce shook his head, and Tony continued, "I'm serious. You have a PhD, you're uniquely skilled, and your time is valuable. And you've been offering me pro bono consulting on my teaching job."

"That's not—we've just been talking."

"No, you've been giving me pro bono consulting. C'mon, Bruce, you have to know that my first semester here would have been going way, way worse if it weren't for your help. And you haven't been billing me. I owe you."

"We're...we're friends, Tony, I'm obviously not going to charge you. I like talking to you."

"Well, I like having you around, and _I'm_ obviously not going to charge _you_ ," Tony said, throwing his hands up in the air. Bruce blinked and looked back down at the lease, which renewed month-to-month, indefinitely, giving Bruce the option to move out whenever he liked but requiring Tony to give him three months notice "in the extremely unlikely event that circumstances change and the lessor requires that the room be made available again." 

"But, even...still?" Bruce asked.

"Huh?"

"After...after Pepper's background check?"

Tony blinked. He guessed he shouldn't have been surprised, given how Bruce had been acting, but… "You think I'd turn you out after hearing that you'd survived horrific domestic violence and child abuse?"

"No, after hearing—"

Tony held up his hand palm out, cutting Bruce off before he could repeat whatever piece of self-hatred he'd been about to say. "Oh, Bruce, come here." He held open his arms. After a moment's hesitation, Bruce tucked himself against Tony's chest. Tony held him and said, "Bruce, if anything, now I have even more respect for you, knowing what you've been through. You were a _kid_ and you did what you needed to do to survive. And I'm glad you survived. Have...have you really not...have people been dicks to you about this?"

Bruce shook his head against Tony's chest. "No, I just—I've never told anyone. Except my therapists. After—um, after it happened, I...I didn't talk at all for about a month. I just shut down. So I was in a mental hospital for a while, and then I went to college early. I went out of state where nobody knew me. And then I...yeah, I never told anyone. Except therapists. And they've told me that it's...that I shouldn't...but it's still so hard to talk about any of it," Bruce said, his voice barely audible.

Tony tried to imagine the burden of carrying that secret around for years, of thinking that his act of childhood self-defense was shameful. "Well, it's your right not to talk about it, but I can't imagine any sane person would ever think any less of you for hearing about your childhood. I certainly don't, and I know Pepper doesn't either. And Pepper is probably the sanest person I know."

Bruce's breathing grew erratic, and Tony peered down at him with concern, wondering if they'd skipped a dose of his cough medicine. Then he realized that Bruce was quietly sobbing. Tony rubbed his back and let him cry. It was weird to see Bruce cry again; in the months that Tony had known him, he'd been shy and awkward but always so calm and grounded underneath it. But Tony supposed Bruce must have had a lot of pent-up tears. It was probably good for him to get them out.

When Bruce's tears eventually came to a shuddery stop, Tony continued, "If anything, I should be worried that you don't want to live with me."

"Huh?"

"You took your violent childhood and became such a peaceful, gentle person. I took my childhood that was...not actively harmful...and became _The Merchant of Death_."

Bruce pulled back from Tony's chest and looked at him, surprise evident in his red-rimmed eyes. "Is that how you think of yourself?"

"Well—it's what they call me. In the media. Or they did. I'm not sure what they're calling me now." Since starting at Shield University, Tony's appearances in the tabloids had significantly dropped, which was all according to Pepper's image rehabilitation plan.

"What they're calling you now that you _quit making weapons_? Tony, that's a big, brave step. It must have been hard for you to pull away from your family business, from what was expected of you."

"Well. I didn't actually stop making weapons, is the thing. I mean, _I_ stopped designing them, but the company is still manufacturing my old designs. That's why I need to get the board back on my side and regain control of the company."

"Oh. Well…still, it was brave of you to speak up and try to make that decision, even if you were overruled," Bruce said, with more respect in his eyes than Tony deserved.

"It would have been harder for me to keep making them, after I understood what they really did. What they were really used for," Tony replied, feeling criminally naive as he said so.

"See? You're a good person."

"No, a good person would have realized how fucked-up my family business was years ago. I mean, you did, right? You wouldn't take Department of Defense money even though it would have made your life easier."

"I don't think it would have," Bruce demurred. "But, Tony, you—I'm sure you were surrounded by people who were trying to convince you to keep doing the, the profitable thing. I mean, look at all the corporations who keep doing _awful_ things because they're profitable. You're like...the only CEO ever who changed their behavior when you realized what you were doing. You knew better, so you did better. Or...you tried to, anyway. You will."

Tony blinked. He knew a lot of other CEOs, and he'd never thought about it that way before. "You think they all know what they're doing is wrong, and they keep doing it anyway?"

Bruce laughed. "Yes, Tony, I absolutely do think that. Or—I'm sure they don't think of it quite that way. But I'm sure they are aware that their products and business policies cause _harm_ , to people and to the world, and they choose profit over people every time. You chose people, once you understood what the choice was."

Tony considered this. "But, Bruce, I...I'm supposed to be smart. Don't you think I should have figured this out before now?"

"You _are_ smart, Tony. But I think smart people can have blind spots. Especially if society in general, and people you trust in particular, are encouraging you not to see issues."

"Hmm. Blind spots, like not recognizing the fact that surviving child abuse doesn't make you a horrible criminal?" Tony asked.

"I—I guess so."

Tony squeezed his arm around Bruce more tightly. "It's pretty good advice, Bruce, I hope you can take it yourself."

"I'll work on it."

"I guess that's all we can do," Tony said. "But, Bruce, I really do want to talk about the, uh, lease. I—I know that before, you made it clear that you were only interested in being friends."

"Well—" Bruce interrupted, but Tony kept going. He needed to get this out.

"And I know it's a weird situation, but I just wanted you to know—to have it in writing—that you staying here isn't contingent on us being anything other than friends. But I just, I need to know that you're safe. Everything else...we can figure out later. As long as you have a warm place to sleep at night. Or in the afternoon. Or whenever you're tired."

Bruce sat up straight and grabbed for the document. "Do you have a pen?"

"Uh—" Of course, Tony didn't. He never used pens, not when he had his phone and his holographic sensors around the house. "Hang on." He carefully extracted himself from Bruce's embrace and got up to rummage around until he found one in his home office. When he came back, Bruce was just staring out at the ocean, the document still lying on the table. "Did, um, did you read it? You don't want to make any changes or anything?"

Bruce shrugged. "I trust you."

"Yeah?" Tony asked, a grin growing on his face.

Bruce nodded and signed it. Tony took the pen back and signed on the line next to Bruce's before kissing him on the cheek. Bruce laughed and curled back up against Tony. 

"That was easier than I thought it would be," Tony said.

"Uh-oh. What nefarious fine print did I miss?"

"No, nothing, I swear, it's just...you're so stubborn. I really thought you were going to insist on sleeping in a tent or something until some magical apartment in your price range materialized out of thin air."

Bruce let out a long breath, then coughed. "I'm just...tired," he admitted.

"Do you want to go back to bed?"

"I meant...more generally," Bruce said. "I'm tired of being on my own. I'm tired of sleeping in my car. So I'm going to try something really radical and trust that you really do, uh, care about me. And that maybe it's okay if I don't do everything one hundred percent on my own."

Tony leaned his head against Bruce's head and smiled to himself. "What a groundbreaking idea," he said.

"I know I'm messed up, Tony," Bruce said. "But I am...trying."

"Yeah. Me too."

They sat quietly together for a long moment, processing what that might mean for them. Then Bruce yawned and said, "Also, now that you mention it, I...kind of do want to go back to bed."

"It's been a big day for you," Tony observed. "You went down a whole flight of stairs, ate some soup…"

"...revealed decade-old secrets and had a complete nervous breakdown about it," Bruce said wryly. "Exhausting. And now I have to go back _up_ the stairs?"

"I'm not sure I can carry you. But I can get a blanket if you want to sleep on this couch."

"No, I can do it. Slowly," Bruce said. And he did, though the effort of climbing the stairs was clearly exhausting for him. Tony kicked himself for not having an elevator for the upper level of his house—he'd meant to have one installed after Rhodey's injury, but then, Rhodey had seemed to relish demonstrating how well he could take stairs with his new braces. Plus it had been awhile since Rhodey had come out to California, and Tony had pushed it aside for other projects. But Bruce didn't complain. After Tony (and JARVIS) helped Bruce with his meds, Bruce settled into bed and Tony took his laptop over to the couch. He was a little anxious to get in the workshop, but he especially didn't want to leave Bruce alone tonight, not after everything he'd revealed.

But when Bruce started snoring loudly, Tony slipped out into the hallway to call Pepper. On the first ring, she answered with, "Hey, Tony, is everything okay? How's Bruce?"

"He's...better. Asleep right now. I just wanted to touch bases with you about...I just wanted to know what you said to Bruce."

"Oh my god, Tony, I'm _so sorry_. He knows I'm sorry, right?"

"Yeah, I think he got that. No, I don't want to make you feel bad, I just wondered...literally what you said?"

"Well...I'd had a background check done on him and I just had some follow-up questions. And I told him that I was sure it was nothing, but I wanted to know about this sealed juvenile record he has. And, um...god, Tony, it was so awful to see him, he went totally flat and blank, and told me this completely horrible story, and, and he said that I was right and he didn't deserve you, which is...not at all what I said, for the record, and then I tried to give him a hug and he freaked out and locked himself in the bathroom. And then that's where you came in."

Tony blinked. "He said he didn't deserve me?"

"Yeah. He said...he said he didn't mean to...kill his dad, he just wanted him to stop...it was...it was so hard to hear. It sounded like kind of a freak accident, his dad was beating his mom, and Bruce pushed his dad away from his mom, and his dad slipped and hit his head on the counter and just...god, I think the implication was that his dad slipped on his mom's blood? Oh, I'm so sorry I brought it up. I just didn't want you to get scammed, Tony."

"No, I know. I—I mean, how could you have known?" Tony paced the hallway. "He told me his childhood had been bad, but...I wouldn't have guessed _this_ bad."

She made a sympathetic sound and said, "Totally. I mean, if someone says they had a bad childhood, it usually means something more like yours, not, like, a full Shakespearean tragedy."

"My childhood was...fine," Tony said. 

Pepper gave one of her usual incriminating pauses before replying, "Okay, well, you can unpack that later. Maybe you can take more meditation classes with Bruce!"

"Not sure if that will help."

"Can't hurt!"

Tony sighed. "Okay, well, he can't teach them right now anyway, since he still can't breathe, so, let's take it one day at a time."

"Sounds like a plan," Pepper said, and he could hear her smiling through the phone.

"I'll let you go, I just wanted to check in."

"Bye, Tony, take care. And let me know if you or Bruce need anything else. Oh, did you want Matt to make any changes to that lease?"

"No, he signed it as-is."

"That's great, Tony."

"Thanks." Tony hung up. He stuck his head back in Bruce's room and saw—heard—that Bruce was still asleep and snoring. Tony, being possessed of a healthy person's appetite, went downstairs and ate some cold leftover pizza, before returning to his room to get changed for bed. Then he crept back into Bruce's room and laid down next to him. He wasn't ready for sleep yet, but he rolled over on his side, with his back to Bruce so the light wouldn't bother him, and he searched the internet for Brian Banner. He found old newspaper articles about the deaths of Rebecca Drake Banner and Brian Banner. Bruce's name was kept off the record, though there were references to a long record of domestic violence and an unnamed minor. Tony felt sick to think of what that poor unnamed minor had gone through, and he turned over to give Bruce a quick kiss on the cheek. Bruce slept through it, but it made Tony feel a tiny bit better.

Tony forced himself to close all of those upsetting tabs. He pulled up a holographic display of the food replicator schema. It was harder than usual for him to focus, but he worked on it until Bruce awoke with a series of coughs, ready for his next dose of cough syrup.

Bruce looked sleepy and a little surprised to see Tony. But he smiled and sat up to take his medicine. He didn't try to tell Tony that he "didn't have to stay with him." Instead, he said, "I'm not that much fun to share a bed with right now, but I guess you already knew that."

Tony smiled and kissed his cheek. "Luckily, I'm a college professor, so I don't have much of a social life."

Bruce laughed and wheezed and laid back down on his mountain of pillows, clutching another one to his chest as he coughed. "When I first saw this bed, I thought it was kind of dumb to have so many pillows. But now I can't imagine having any fewer than this number of pillows. You're gentrifying me."

"The doctor said you should sleep either with your head elevated like this. Or on your side with a pillow between your knees."

"Hmm. Well, then I would need another pillow, because now that I've grown accustomed to it, I couldn't possibly sleep with my head on any less than six pillows."

"I can go—" Tony started, but Bruce reached out and put his left hand over Tony's right hand.

"Shh, I'm just kidding."

"Oh. Well, there are definitely more pillows in this house—more in this room, even. So just say the word if that would help."

"No, no," Bruce said. "But thank you. And sweet dreams."

"Same to you," Tony said. They turned off the lights and before long, Bruce had fallen back to sleep. Tony managed to follow him—it was earlier than his usual bedtime, but it had been a tiring day.

And of course, he had another nightmare, and awoke terrified and confused. But it had been a different flavor of nightmare than his norm—this time instead of returning to Afghanistan, he saw Bruce, younger and scared. Tony didn't know what Bruce's father looked like beyond a grainy mug shot, so in his dream, his subconscious had helpfully substituted Howard Stark, who coldly belittled Bruce the way he used to talk to Tony. But then Dream Howard shoved Bruce, hard, which real Howard had never done. Ironically for a weapons manufacturer, he'd never been much for physical violence. Dream Bruce's head hit the wall with a sickening sound and his blood pooled on the marble floor of Tony's childhood home. Tony was powerless to do anything, watching the impossible scene as a frozen observer.

But now Tony was awake, and Bruce was here, alive and...not exactly well. But alive. Safe.

"Mm, hey, it's okay," Bruce murmured. "Come here, roll over."

Tony did as Bruce indicated and rolled onto his side, his back to Bruce. Bruce scooted closer and spooned him from behind, gently running a hand up and down Tony's chest and urging him to breathe.

Once Tony had caught his breath, he said, "Wait, do—do you need another pillow?"

Bruce laughed and nuzzled against Tony's cheek. "I'll manage."

"I dreamed—I dreamed that you were...hurt," Tony said.

"I'm okay."

"I dreamed that my dad—never mind, I'll let you go back to sleep."

Bruce stroked Tony's chest again. "All I ever do now is sleep. You can talk if you want to."

"I dreamed that _my_ dad was hurting you. I think he was...uh...but I woke up."

"Did your dad used to hurt you?"

"No, not really. Not physically. I—I mean a spanking here and there, but not—not out of line. For the time. I guess nothing he did was out of line for his generation...he was older when he had me. It was just a shitty time."

"What do you mean?"

"He was just—sorry, I shouldn't complain about him, not to you."

"Of course you should. If it would help you to talk about it."

"Just, you know, classic repressed WASP stuff. Distant, strict, never really cared about what I was doing unless it was 'damaging the Stark reputation.' Couldn't wait to ship me off to boarding school. I...our butler was more of a father figure to me, and I know that's some cliched Poor Little Rich Kid shit, but there you have it."

"I'm sorry, Tony. You deserved better."

"So did you."

Bruce acknowledged this with a small sound. "What about your mom? What was she like?"

Tony sighed. "Very sweet, very loving, very stuck under my father's thumb. She was a lot younger than him, and...well, if it had been up to her, I might not have gone to boarding school. At least not until high school. But...it wasn't."

"Yeah. Not much was up to my mom, either." Tony felt so shitty for complaining about his parents to Bruce. At least his mom had gotten to die in a car accident instead of being murdered by her spouse in front of her son. Bruce apparently sensed Tony's mood, because he added, "It's not a competition. I'm just saying, I—I know how it feels, to watch your mom's wishes get...ignored."

"Yeah. I just—I know it's nothing compared to what you went through, but—"

"—Don't, Tony."

"What?"

"Don't compare us like that. It—look, I'm pretty sick right now. But there are people out there dying from lung cancer. They're sicker than me. But it doesn't mean I can go out and run a marathon right now. Not—not that I could run a marathon before I got pneumonia, either, but. You take my point."

"Yeah. I guess."

"You've been hurt, and I'm sorry to hear it," Bruce said. He was using his calm yoga teacher voice, and Tony felt tears well up in his eyes. _What the fuck?_ Tony never cried. Not that he was ashamed to cry or anything, he just...didn't. He hadn't cried at his parents' funeral. This had to be sleep deprivation. And maybe Bruce's yoga powers.

His voice slightly shaky, Tony said, "Thanks. Uh. Good night."

"Good night, Tony." Tony swallowed back his tears and fell back to sleep, feeling safe in Bruce's arms.


	11. Respiratory Recovery

Bruce yawned and coughed and sat up in bed. "Lights, please, JARVIS?" He couldn't believe how quickly he'd gotten accustomed to having not only a bed, but also a charming British AI around.

JARVIS obliged and the room was bathed with soft light. Bruce didn't see Tony anywhere. He felt a little disappointed, even though he'd been telling Tony over and over that Tony didn't need to spend all of his time with Bruce. Tony surely must have better things to do than babysit Bruce, who spent most of his time asleep anyway. Bruce reached for a bottle of water from the bedside table and took a sip. He winced as the room temperature water hit his sore throat, but he knew he needed to hydrate.

Before he could even ask JARVIS about his cough medicine, the door slid open and Tony appeared, his face just barely visible over the stack of pillows he was carrying. His eyes lit up when he saw Bruce, and he said, "Hey, I just wanted to make sure you had enough pillows."

"You're...so cute," Bruce said dreamily.

Tony dropped the pillows in the middle of the bed and came to sit next to Bruce. "Well, it's about time you noticed." Then he frowned and cupped a hand over Bruce's forehead. "Is this you talking, or your fever?"

"Hmm?"

"You've got that fevery look again." Tony pulled his hand back and took the thermometer from the bedside table. Bruce stuck it in his mouth and tried to keep breathing through his nose. Now that Tony mentioned it, he did feel feverish. He'd gotten so used to feeling just generally crappy that it was hard to track changes. When the thermometer finally beeped, Bruce gasped for air while Tony peered at the reading. 

"Your fever's back up. I'm calling the doctor."

"I'm sure I can just take a Tylenol and go back to sleep…"

"I'm _calling_ the _doctor_ ," Tony repeated. And then he pulled his phone out of his pocket and did so. He idly stroked Bruce's hair while he explained the situation and insisted that he needed to talk to the doctor right away. At first he didn't seem to be getting the answers he wanted, but eventually, he said, "Hi, Dr. Ko, sorry to bother you on a weekend, but…" Bruce drifted in and out of listening. He couldn't believe how attentive Tony was.

When he was a kid, he'd hardly ever been taken to the doctor outside of mandatory school physicals. There was the financial cost to consider, not to mention the questions that Bruce's various injuries might raise. Bruce had spent most of his life pretending to be fine, and he was still getting used to the idea that if he _wasn't_ fine, someone might care. Someone might help. But here was Tony, refusing to let Bruce pretend.

"Okay. Thanks so much for your time. Uh-huh, I will," Tony said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "The doctor said she thinks you probably overexerted yourself yesterday."

"I did basically nothing yesterday," Bruce protested weakly.

"Well, today you're going to do less than nothing, I guess. Your fever's up to 102.5, if it gets to 104 you have to go back to the hospital."

Bruce moaned. He didn't want to go back to the hospital. Going back to the hospital would mean getting out of this bed, and he didn't want to do that.

Tony stroked his hair once again and then brought him his medicines. He changed the bandage on Bruce's hand and asked, "Do you want a popsicle?"

"Yes, please."

Bruce ate it and then laid back down on his pile of pillows. He didn't exactly feel tired enough to sleep, but he didn't have the energy to do...anything else. "Could you put on a movie or something?"

"You sure you don't just want to sleep?"

"Mm, not right now."

"Well, just ask JARVIS, he can play anything you want."

"Oh." Bruce's mind was suddenly blank, he couldn't think of a single movie he'd ever watched or wanted to watch. "I don't know, you pick."

Tony thought about it. "JARVIS, can you pull up some episodes of the Price is Right?"

"Certainly, sir."

Bruce laughed. "What?"

"I dunno. I always used to watch this when I was sick in boarding school. I think it was on all day in the lounges. Figured you should get the whole sick day experience. But we can change it—"

"No, this is good. It's perfect." Bruce watched a few minutes of people excitedly greeting Bob Barker and guessing the value of various goods. It was completely mindless, but Bruce didn't have much of a mind at the moment.

Tony climbed into bed next to Bruce, and Bruce curled up against his chest. Before long, his eyes drifted closed. He wasn't asleep, but it didn't seem worth the energy to keep his eyes open. He just let the voices of happy strangers wash over him.

The next few days passed in a blur. Bruce's fever went back down and his cough slowly started to improve, but he was still exhausted and physically weak. He spent almost all of his time in bed. Throughout it, Tony remained by his side, incredibly caring. He held Bruce close when he shivered from fever or coughed too hard, and he didn't even seem too disappointed that Bruce could only manage brief interludes of intellectual rigor. Bruce was excited about Tony's food replicator project but he lacked the energy to focus on it. Instead, he used most of his limited mental capacity on responding to student emails. 

Bruce had largely lost track of time, but one day, Tony excused himself to "take care of something," reminding Bruce to let JARVIS know if he needed anything. But Bruce didn't need anything; he just rested on his mountain of pillows and listened to old game shows with his eyes closed until Tony came back. He was carrying a plate in each hand, and he proudly set the plates on the bed trays that Pepper had gotten for them.

Tony said, "I know your appetite has been kind of touch and go, but, well, it _is_ Thanksgiving."

"Oh! Right. Happy Thanksgiving. Did you make all of this?"

"Well...no," Tony admitted. "But I re-heated it!"

Bruce smiled. "I was starting to get a little sick of popsicles." He eyed the plate of food.

Tony added, "Your plate is all vegetarian. Pepper ordered it from some hippie restaurant. The turkey is free-range."

"Do you, um, should we say anything before we eat?"

"Oh. No? Unless you have any traditions?"

Bruce shrugged. "My family—we used to go to my aunt and uncle's house for Thanksgiving—we'd always go around and say what we were thankful for before we ate." Bruce had always said that he was thankful to spend time with his family, which made everyone happy. They didn't need to know that when he said it, he was thinking only of his mom and his cousin Jen.

"Well, I'm very thankful that you're here and feeling better," Tony said sweetly.

"Me too. I'm...I'm thankful we met. I don't know where I'd be without you."

Tony smiled. "Well...that's enough of feelings for now. Let's move on to food."

"Sounds good." Bruce slowly ate a respectable portion of mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and stuffing with mushroom gravy.

"Vegetarian stuffing seems weird," Tony observed. "I mean, it didn't stuff anything."

"I guess that's true. I didn't think people were supposed to cook stuffing inside turkeys anymore anyway, though."

"Really?"

"I think I read that somewhere. It can cause salmonella or something."

"Huh." Tony considered this. "Well, this kind tastes pretty good anyway. Do you cook a lot?"

"Well, lately it's pretty much just been in the microwave in the staff lounge."

"Oh shit, sorry."

Bruce laughed. "It's okay." He was sort of glad that Tony had managed to forget about Bruce's homelessness, even temporarily. "Uh, but before that, yeah, I guess I used to cook some. When I was a kid I used to help my mom whenever I could. What about you?"

"Oh, my mom didn't cook much. Sometimes I'd hang out with Anna in the kitchen but, according to my dad that wasn't what 'real men' did, so."

Bruce nodded sympathetically. "Men of our fathers' generations gendered the dumbest things, didn't they? Like men don't cook food. Like some of the most prestigious chefs ever weren't men."

"Yeah. But I guess I—I guess maybe I internalized some of that? Or maybe I just wasn't that interested in cooking anyway. It's hard to say." Tony thoughtfully chewed a bite of turkey. "Maybe I'm not that interested. I mean, I like to eat, but big meals like this...it seems like such a lot of effort for something that's going to literally go down the toilet before too long. I like to make things that will last."

"That makes sense. But I think that's what makes cooking special. If you're making something for someone else, you're putting that time and effort into something just for them. It's special."

"Aww. Do you make dinner for all your boyfriends?"

"I haven't...it's been hard for me to get close to anyone. For, um, I guess, obvious reasons. So I don't have much...I haven't really...no," Bruce managed to say. "The last time I seriously dated anyone was in grad school, so usually the most I could do was make a fresh pot of coffee in the lab and order pizza with her favorite toppings. But I like the idea of it. I...I'd like to make dinner for you," he added shyly.

Tony beamed. "Well, I will take you up on that. When I'm convinced that you could stand at a stove for more than five minutes without passing out." Tony took another bite, then added, "Though, actually, maybe we could collaborate on a project."

"Yeah?"

"I had this ambitious moment and asked Pepper to order ingredients to make a pie. I thought, I don't know, it might be fun. But then I read some recipes and...uh...well, it didn't seem...like a recipe for beginners."

Bruce grinned. "Yeah, I've made pies before. I can make you a pie."

"No, no, I'll make the pie. I want you to be my pie coach," Tony said earnestly. "I'll do the heavy lifting. You can just sit there and, you know, coach me."

"The ingredients aren't really that heavy."

"You know what I mean. I don't want to overwork you."

"Okay," Bruce agreed. "What kind of pie are we making?"

"I was thinking pumpkin. Unless you object?"

"How could I object to pumpkin pie?"

"I just didn't want to presume."

"Here's the real question: are we making the crust from scratch?"

"Well, yeah, we're making a pie."

"Okay, so you're kind of jumping in the deep end," Bruce said. "The crust is the hardest part. And also the part that you can buy pre-made."

"Sometimes you have to run before you can walk," Tony replied confidently.

They kept chatting about desserts as they finished their meal. When their plates were empty, Tony asked, "Do you want seconds of anything?" Tony asked.

Bruce looked down at his plate, which hadn't been particularly full to start. But it was still the most food he'd eaten in one sitting in quite a while. "No, I'd better not overdo it."

"Well, there are plenty of leftovers downstairs if you want any later. What about dessert? Do you have room for dessert?"

"Don't we have to make the dessert first?"

"Ah, well. Pepper, in her infinite wisdom, also ordered a pre-bought pie, since she...doubted my ability to make a pie. So we have a French silk pie now. I thought maybe we could make the pumpkin tomorrow? Or later? I don't want to cook on a full stomach."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Seems better than cooking while hungry."

"Well, sure, but my stomach is _very_ full right now. I think I just need a nap."

"Nap sounds good," Bruce agreed. "Of course, naps pretty much always sound good to me right now." He was frustrated by how long it was taking him to get well. His cough was much better, and he could breathe more easily. But he tired so quickly. The thought of returning to his full classroom workload made him want to weep. But he still had a few more days of break, and Tony was ensuring that Bruce spent most of that time on bed rest.

When Bruce awoke from his afternoon nap, Tony was sitting up in bed next to him. He was eating French silk pie straight out of the pie tin. "Mmph, hey Bruce," he said through a mouthful of pie. "I didn't think I'd get hungry again after lunch, but wouldn't you know it."

"I think that's usually how bodies work," Bruce replied, amused.

"I guess. Anyway, want some pie? I got you a fork."

"Yeah. Sure," Bruce agreed. He tried, and failed, to think of anything more decadent than waking up from a nap and eating French silk pie in bed with Tony Stark. Especially when the pie was so good. "Oh my god," he mumbled through his own full mouth.

Tony grinned. "It's good, right?"

"Mm-hmm." Bruce ate a good portion of delicious pie. He felt like he might burst, and then he looked over at Tony and saw that he had whipped cream on his face, just above his signature goatee. "Oh, you've got…" He gestured vaguely at his own face. Tony grabbed a napkin but didn't get it all. Bruce laughed and reached over to wipe it off with his finger. He leaned in close to Tony's face. He hadn't meant for this to be a cliched erotic moment, but somehow it seemed to be happening, in spite of the decidedly un-sexy pajamas they both wore.

Tony took in a breath and said, "How are you feeling? Could I...kiss you?"

"Uh. Yeah. I'd—I'd like that. But move the pie."

Tony laughed. He obligingly put the remains of the pie on the bedside table, and then he leaned in to give Bruce a gentle kiss. It was both figuratively and literally sweet, but Bruce broke away after a moment, gasping for breath.

"Oh. Sorry, that was, um, that was great, but I forgot that I, uh, can't breathe through my nose very well," Bruce said, feeling gross. He already couldn't believe how lucky he was that someone like Tony wanted to be with someone like _him_ , but then Bruce couldn't even kiss him because he needed to breathe through his mouth? _Ugh._

But Tony didn't seem grossed out. He smiled and kissed Bruce on the cheek. "Then I guess you'd better get well soon."

"I'm trying," Bruce protested. 

Tony leaned over and kissed his other cheek. "Good. I'll wait."

"You're sweet."

"No, you've confused me with the pie."

Bruce laughed. Tony wrapped his arm around Bruce and maneuvered Bruce closer to himself. They curled up and watched more old game shows. It was the best Thanksgiving Bruce had ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a great weekend! :-*


	12. Investigation of the Culinary Arts

Tony watched Bruce's sleeping face and hoped that he hadn't screwed up by kissing him. Bruce trying to wipe whipped cream off of Tony's face had just seemed like such a classic move. In retrospect, he should have known better than to think Bruce might try any kind of move at all. Tony had never been with anyone like Bruce. Usually, people threw themselves at Tony. At first glance, Bruce seemed like he might prefer to throw himself into oncoming traffic. 

Maybe Pepper was right to worry that Tony was pressuring Bruce into being with him. But...then there was the way that Bruce looked at Tony. Like he really _saw_ him. And it didn't seem like Bruce hadn't enjoyed the kiss. Just that he needed to breathe. Tony could do that, he could give Bruce breathing room. 

Tony decided to sleep on the couch that night. Bruce didn't wake as Tony crept out of bed and back over to the couch. Tony prided himself on his ability to fall asleep anywhere, and he'd had no problem sleeping on the couch before. But now he tossed and turned, until he heard Bruce cough himself awake. JARVIS turned the lights up, and Tony went back over to the bed to get Bruce another dose of cough medicine.

"It's okay, I can do it," Bruce said, punctuated by a cough. Tony took the bottle out of his hands and poured a dose anyway, which Bruce took with a grimace. After a moment, Bruce said, "Sorry if I bothered you."

"How many times do I have to tell you, you're not a bother."

"I just meant…" Bruce looked over at the couch. "I don't know, if I kicked you in my sleep or something."

"Oh. No. I just...I thought you might want some space?" Tony asked sleepily.

"Oh. Do...you want some space?" Bruce asked, a hurt look in his eyes.

Tony sat down on the bed next to Bruce. "No. It's just—I dunno, Pepper wanted me to be sure I wasn't pressuring you too much, since you're sick and all, and I...I don't know, I wasn't sure if you wanted me to share the bed with you or if I just kind of bulldozed my way in while you were out of it, and maybe you were too polite to ask me to stop."

Bruce leaned his head against Tony's shoulder. "No, I...I like having you here. If you don't mind. I just know it can't be fun to share a bed with me right now."

"Are you kidding? I'm living out my _English Patient_ fantasies."

After a pause, Bruce said, "Tony, did you actually see _The English Patient_?"

"Uh...no, but I couldn't think of any other nurse romance movies."

Bruce let out a pained laugh. "It's not—that guy, the, uh, titular patient, dies while talking to the nurse about the dead woman he loved. The nurse gives him an overdose so he can be with her. The dead woman."

"Um, spoilers, I didn't say I wasn't ever going to watch it." 

Bruce laughed again. "Sorry."

Tony shook his head at the apology and continued, "But, okay, sorry, I thought it was a romance movie."

"I mean, yeah, like a tragic romance."

"Well, that's definitely not what's happening here. You're not going to die. At least, not by my hand."

"Okay. Well, as long as you're not 100% committed to the _English Patient_ roleplay, you can stay."

Tony hesitated. "I _can_ stay or you _want_ me to stay?"

"If—if you want to."

"Bruce…"

"I—I _want_ you to stay. If you want to." Barely audible, Bruce added, "I want...you." He looked up at Tony and leaned in. Tony leaned, too, and gave Bruce a brief kiss. Bruce pulled away for a breath and then kissed Tony again. He sighed. "I'm really sick of being sick."

"Well, let's go back to sleep, so you can get better."

"Kay," Bruce agreed. He gave Tony one more quick kiss before lying back down on his pile of pillows. Tony settled in next to him, marveling at how easy that had been. Maybe that whole "talking about your feelings" thing would catch on. Or maybe it had only worked because Bruce had been practically talking in his sleep. Still, Tony fell asleep feeling pleased with himself.

In the morning, Tony woke up and made coffee. He brought Bruce a yogurt and his meds, and they settled into their newly-established cozy morning routine. Then Bruce said, "You know, if you were serious about wanting to make a pie today, we should start now."

"How long does it _take_?"

"Well, you have to make the dough and then cool it in the fridge for a few hours."

"What? Why? Aren't you just going to put it in the hot oven?"

Bruce smiled. "Yeah, I don't know. You just have to."

"Hmm. Well, I say let's make two pies and see if you _really_ have to do that."

"What are we going to do with two pies?"

"I'm sure our students would eat them."

"Then we'd need a lot more pies."

"Fine, just our TAs."

"Okay," Bruce agreed. "If you have enough ingredients for two pies, let's go make two pies."

They went downstairs, not bothering to change out of their pajamas. Tony watched Bruce carefully as he went down the stairs. Bruce was going slowly, but he wasn't breathing as hard as he had the last time they'd gone downstairs. Still, it was clearly an effort for him. At least the science center had elevators, so when they went back to work Bruce wouldn't have to struggle down to his basement office. Although they were very long hallways. Maybe Bruce shouldn't go back to work on Monday? He'd wait and see how Bruce did over the weekend before suggesting that. Tony knew that Bruce thought Tony was being overprotective, but...Bruce didn't realize how hard it was to watch him struggle to breathe. For now, Tony pushed those thoughts aside and settled in for the serious work of baking pies.

He pointed to a stool at the kitchen island. "Seriously, Bruce, you sit down. I'm going to make the pies. You're giving verbal assistance only."

Bruce gave a mock salute and settled on a stool. Tony had JARVIS pull up a pie crust recipe and project a copy in front of each of them. Tony hit his first stumbling block immediately. "Two and a half cups of flour," he muttered to himself, opening and closing drawers.

"It means a measuring cup, not just, you know, a cup."

"I know that!" Tony protested. "I just...don't know if I own any measuring cups."

"Oh. You really _don't_ cook much, do you?" Bruce asked, though he seemed more entertained than judgmental. "If you have a kitchen scale, you should be able to measure grams."

Tony thought about it. He had some scales in his workshop, but he didn't want to drag them to the kitchen. _The workshop!_ "I'll just 3-D print some measuring cups."

Bruce bit his lip, amusement shining in his eyes. "You must be the only person in America who has a 3-D printer but no measuring cups."

"Well, that's the nice thing about having on-site fabrication capabilities. In ten minutes, I'll have both. What's the person with only measuring cups going to do? Bake a 3-D printer?"

"Good point." Bruce smiled. 

Tony looked up the dimensions for measuring cups and spoons and had JARVIS start rendering them. Then he walked over to kiss Bruce on the forehead. "I'll be right back. Wait here." He was anxious to show Bruce his workshop, but it was down another flight of stairs, and he just didn't want to wear Bruce out.

Bruce didn't protest, and Tony hurried to pick up his 3-D printed tools. As he picked his polycarbonate utensils up, he was surprised to hear footsteps behind him. "What happened to waiting in the kitchen? Did you miss me already?"

"I really did," a familiar voice said. 

Tony whipped his head around. "Rhodey!" He went to embrace his friend, managing an awkward hug around Rhodey's full hands. "What are you doing here? Is everything okay?" He tried to look over Rhodey's leg braces for any sign that they needed repair.

Rhodey laughed. "Everything's fine. JARVIS let me in. I was going to surprise you."

"Well, mission accomplished," Tony said, with an easy smile. He looked at Rhodey, in his full Air Force uniform, with a military-issue duffle bag over his shoulder and a small cooler bag in his hands. Tony felt relieved that he'd intercepted Rhodey before Rhodey had made it to the kitchen. He wasn't sure how Bruce would react to this surprise, given his opinions about the Department of Defense.

Oblivious to Tony's inner concerns, Rhodey said, "I figured you'd be in here. What are you working on?" Tony held out a half-cup. "Measuring cups?" Rhodey laughed. "Don't tell me you're trying to cook something."

"Well, I have some help."

Rhodey tilted his head. "You get a personal chef or something?"

"No, I...my...friend Bruce is staying with me."

Rhodey blinked. "Bruce?"

"He's...it's a long story. He's a professor at Shield University, I've been getting to know him."

It felt cagy as he said it, and Rhodey reacted with a bit of hurt. "Oh. Well, hey, I didn't realize you had company. Last week Pepper said she was doing Thanksgiving with Nat, and I—I didn't want to disappoint my mom by missing her Thanksgiving, but I didn't want you to be alone for the holiday, either."

"I appreciate it, Rhodey, it's great to see you. Look, the thing with Bruce is, I'll just give you a quick rundown...he's this really sweet, nerdy guy, and I tried to ask him out, like, immediately, but he wasn't into it. But we became friends, and then he got sick and cut the shit out of his hand, so I took him to the ER, and then I found out that he's been homeless this whole fucking time. Uh, unhoused, I mean. So I brought him home with me, and he's staying here, uh, indefinitely."

Rhodey's eyebrows went up. "Oh. Wow. And, uh, you're sure—"

"—Pepper already did a background check on him," Tony said firmly. He did not want a repeat of Pepper's visit.

Rhodey held his hands up, palms out. "Just checking."

"Anyway, it all happened pretty fast, and I've mostly been taking care of him, so I've been a little out of it."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, he got pneumonia, so I've been, you know, making sure he gets his medicines on time and stuff. It's really been taking a lot out of him. But, uh, why don't I go introduce you?"

"Sure."

Tony led Rhodey back to the kitchen. Bruce looked up from his phone and his eyes widened. "How good is your 3-D printer?" he asked.

Tony laughed. He held out the measuring cups and said, "It's great, but it didn't print Rhodey. Rhodey, this is Bruce. Bruce, this is my best friend Rhodey, he came by to surprise me." He emphasized _surprise_ so that Bruce would understand that Tony hadn't known. 

"Oh." Bruce took a deep breath and stood up from the stool. He went to offer a handshake to Rhodey, realized that Rhodey's hands were full and his right hand was still bandaged, and gave an awkward wave and shrug.

"Hey, Bruce. I'm James Rhodes, you can call me Jim. _Most_ people call me Jim," he said, with an exasperated look at Tony, who ignored it.

"Oh, uh, hi, Jim."

Rhodey set his cooler bag on the kitchen island. "Mama was worried you wouldn't have anything to eat, so she sent me with a sweet potato pie."

Tony's eyes lit up. "Oh my god, I love your mom. Tell her I love her." He opened up the bag and gazed lovingly at the pie. "We are going to have _so_ much pie."

"How much pie do you have?" Rhodey asked.

"Like, half of a French silk in the fridge, but Bruce and I are committed to making two more pies today."

"Oh, we don't have to," Bruce said softly.

"Um, excuse me, Bruce, I went to all the trouble of making these measuring cups and you're going to back out now?"

Bruce smiled. "I just meant—we could postpone, if you wanted to spend time with your friend. Also, it seems like JARVIS did most of the work?"

"Well—that's a fair point," Tony acknowledged. "Thanks for the measuring cups, JARVIS."

"I live to serve, sir."

"Anyway, of course I want to spend time with Rhodey," Tony continued. "We'll spend time together here in the kitchen." He glanced at Rhodey for affirmation, and Rhodey smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, any friend of Tony's is a friend of mine," Rhodey said, with an easy smile. Tony had been a little worried about how Bruce and Rhodey might get along. He'd expected that Bruce might need a little bit of time to warm up to Rhodey. But he and Rhodey spent so much time casually teasing each other that he had somehow managed to forget how kind Rhodey really was, how Rhodey had taken young freshman Tony under his wing without dwelling on how weird it was for an 18-year-old to have a 15-year-old roommate. He should have figured that Bruce's wide eyes and shy manner would activate Rhodey's strong protective instincts, even without knowing all of Bruce's tragic backstory.

Then Rhodey added, "Especially if you're going to keep him from burning down the kitchen."

Bruce smiled back. "I'll do my best."

"Hey," Tony protested. "I have a state-of-the-art fire suppression unit."

Rhodey raised an eyebrow. "Now, I know you're not talking about DUM-E."

Tony laughed, and Bruce talked Tony through making the dough for the pie crust, refusing to let him skip any of the steps that seemed pointless. Tony didn't have a rolling pin either, but rather than print one, Bruce suggested he just use a wine bottle, something Tony had plenty of. Rhodey watched with a huge grin on his face. Finally, the dough was ready, and he put half of it in a covered bowl in the fridge, per Bruce's instructions. He set about rolling the rest of the dough.

He explained to Rhodey, "Bruce and I are doing a food experiment. He said you have to chill the pie dough first, but I say, it's just going in the hot oven anyway, right?"

"I don't know. Mama always chills her dough overnight," Rhodey said doubtfully.

" _Overnight_?" Tony asked. "Damn. Mama Rhodes' pie is the best I've ever had, so maybe she's on to something."

Rhodey laughed. "Still, can't argue with the scientific process. Or with having two pies."

"That's right."

Once Tony finished making the pumpkin pie filling, he put his first pie in the oven and settled at the kitchen island next to Bruce. Rhodey helped himself to a cup of coffee and sat across from them.

"So, Bruce, where are you from?" Rhodey asked.

"Uh, Ohio originally, but I moved here from Iowa most recently. What about you?"

"Philly originally. But I went to MIT for college, which is where I met this guy," Rhodey said, pointing at Tony. "And then I enlisted and went off to Afghanistan for a tour of duty, and these days I'm based out of DC."

Bruce nodded. "Tony told me, um," Bruce glanced at Tony questioningly.

Tony said, "It's okay, Bruce,” To Rhodey, explained, “I told him about when we were attacked in Afghanistan. How goddamn heroic you were."

Rhodey grinned. "All in a day's work." Rhodey really had taken the incident in stride, much more than Tony had been able to, despite the fact that Rhodey's physical injuries were much more severe. "Tony hooked me up with these braces, though, so I'm basically good as new."

"Tony...made those?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah, it took some trial and error. I think he had to sleep on a bed of medical textbooks to get himself up to speed, but yeah, he made it work."

"Tony, uh, didn't you say you were trying to find a new product that you could market?" Bruce asked.

"Mm, yeah, no, I know what you're thinking, but the market's just not there for that kind of assisted technology. Or, I mean, there's definitely a need for it, and I'd like to help with that, if I can ever get control back of my company...but in terms of profitability, it wouldn't be enough to get the board's attention. We need something with broader appeal. Like the food replicator."

"Food replicator? Like from _Star Trek_?" Rhodey asked.

"Yeah!" Tony enthused. "It kind of started as a joke but I think we're onto something."

"Then why are you in here making pies from scratch?"

"Okay, well, we're not quite that far along in the R&D process," Tony admitted. "Maybe by next Thanksgiving."

"Wow. Well, that's still faster than waiting for the 24th century," Rhodey said. He looked at Bruce. "So you're working on this with Tony?"

Bruce's cheeks flushed. "I—a little bit. He's been bouncing ideas off of me. Mostly I've been too sick to really focus."

Rhodey looked him over. Tony knew that Bruce looked and sounded much healthier than he had a week ago, when he'd been ghostly pale and coughing non-stop. His color was better now, and his cough was mostly under control. But he'd lost some weight on his popsicle diet, and his breathing still sounded like it didn't come easy. Tony said, "He has pneumonia. He's gotten better over the last week but the doctor said it might be months before he got back up to full strength." Bruce made a face at that assessment, and Tony continued, "But he's brilliant, even when he's out of his mind on codeine cough syrup." 

Bruce's blush deepened, and he said, "Well, uh, anyway, um, Jim, what kind of work do you do in DC?"

"I work in procurement. Acquisitions," Rhodey said. "But, I don't know, I'm thinking about putting in for a transfer. Or retiring."

This was news to Tony, who'd assumed that Rhodey would be USAF till he died. "Really?"

Rhodey shrugged. "I mean. Don't go telling anybody in DC. But yeah, it's been on my mind."

Tony blinked. "Is this because of Stane?" Rhodey still handled the military's contracts with SI, which meant that now he had to take meetings with Stane or his associates instead of with Tony. Tony felt a rush of anger rise in him. Bad enough that Stane had betrayed Tony and stolen his company and continued to make the deadly weapons that Tony had sworn off—was he going to drive Rhodey from his career, too? 

"Oh, well, I'm not gonna say he's not a factor. I _hate_ having to deal with that guy, after what he did...but it's maybe more...general disillusionment." Rhodey sipped his coffee. "I mean, I joined the Air Force because I believe in our country, and I wanted to fight for it. To defend innocent people. But more and more, it's hard to even pretend that that's what we're doing."

To Tony's utter shock, Bruce nodded. "My, uh, father fought in Vietnam. Toward the end of the war, when it was all...well. I don't know what he was like before, but afterwards, he was…" he trailed off and shook his head. Tony reached out and put a hand on Bruce's knee. Bruce offered him a small smile. Bruce said, "From what my mom said, a lot of his...anger...was because of how he was treated when he came back. But some of it was because of how obviously...unjust the war was."

Rhodey nodded back. "Yeah. That's rough, man. A lot of veterans from that generation just never got the kind of mental health care they needed. Not that it's _that_ much better now." Tony exhaled. He hadn't thought to give Rhodey a head's up about Bruce's dad, because he never would have thought that the conversation would take this turn. But Bruce seemed calm, his serene exterior perfectly in place. Seeing Bruce look like this, knowing how upset he must be internally, made Tony second-guess every interaction he'd ever had with Bruce.

Rhodey continued, "I mean, look, I'm not stupid, I know the US has always had its fingers in a lot of pies we had no business in. So to speak. But I guess I thought I could do some good, anyway. And—and I wanted to fly. And now I'm not flying, and I'm...I'm not sure what I'm doing."

"I really respect that," Bruce said quietly.

"Me too," Tony agreed. "Well, hey, come work with us!"

"Well, I'm not sure I'm cut out for the classroom."

"Huh? Oh, no, I didn't mean at Shield. I meant SI. Once I get control of the company back from Stane, I'm shutting down the weapons division and focusing on consumer electronics. We could use you!" Tony's mind was already racing, thinking about how amazing it would be to get to work with both Rhodey and Bruce. And with Stane far, far away.

Rhodey gave Tony a strange look, and so did Bruce. "Yeah, maybe," Rhodey said. "So Bruce, you're retiring from teaching?"

Bruce licked his lips and said, "Um, maybe."

Tony blinked. "Oh. I guess I just assumed, I mean, it seemed like you liked working with me, and, the...I mean, I could pay you a lot more than the school."

Bruce smiled. "Well, _that's_ not hard. No, I—I do like working with you, Tony, it's just—I guess hearing 'retired from teaching,' seems so, uh, final. And I—I like teaching."

Rhodey glanced between Bruce and Tony. "It's a big decision," he agreed.

Tony sighed. "I guess it's all contingent on me getting SI back, anyway."

"Couldn't you start your own company?" Rhodey asked. "I mean, you've got the capital, right?"

"Yeah, I've thought about it. But...well, it just really grinds my gears that he's out there using the Stark name. It's _my_ name."

Rhodey nodded. "Yeah. Fair enough."

JARVIS said, "Sir, may I remind you to remove the pie from the oven?"

"Don't forget to use a potholder," Rhodey called.

Tony said, "Look, I know I don't cook much, but…" His defensive reply was derailed by his inability to find a potholder. He opened drawers and cabinets, in what he hoped was a casual manner.

Bruce laughed. "You can use a folded dish towel. Just be careful."

Tony pulled the pie out of the oven and looked at it proudly. "Look! It looks like a pie!" He snapped a picture to send to Pepper.

"Yeah, but does it taste like a pie?" Rhodey asked.

"I'm sure it will," Bruce said. "Just not as good a pie whose dough has chilled for at least three hours."

"Mm-mm," Tony said. "We'll have to do a blind taste test. For scientific results. I don't want you two bringing your biases to the table."

Bruce smiled at him, unmistakable fondness shining through his teasing. He stretched his arms out and said, "I think I'm going to go take a little nap while we wait for pie round two." 

"Good, I'll need you at the top of your game for the second pie," Tony said. "We have to make sure it's a level playing field for the two pies. It won't do if you nod off in the middle of making the second one."

Bruce laughed and rolled his eyes at Tony, nodded a goodbye to Rhodey, and said, "I'll just be in the living room if you need me."

After he left, Rhodey said, "I hope I didn't scare him off. I really didn't know you had company."

Tony shook his head. "Nah, he's just sick. He's gotten down to sleeping about sixteen hours a day instead of like, twenty-two, but still. But he likes you, I can tell."

"Ah. So...you said he wasn't into it when you asked him out the first time, but now how long have you two been _together_?"

Tony sighed. "It's complicated? Arguably we are not quite together yet?"

Rhodey snorted. "Don't bullshit me. I have eyes. I see the way you two look at each other."

Tony smiled. It was sort of nice to have outside affirmation that Bruce seemed to be into Tony. "Yeah, I mean, I...yeah, we have a connection. But it's true, he turned me down and he's spent the whole semester playing hard to get. Which it turns out was mostly because he didn't want me to find out he was living in his car. So, now...it's different, but he's been so sick, and...so we're just doing stuff in a really weird order, I guess," Tony said with a shrug.

"Huh. Well, I'm happy for you two, really."

"Thanks. Shit, I meant to ask, how's Carol?"

Rhodey lit up. "Great, she's...so great. And my mama loved her."

"That's great. She's a real step up from the girls you dated in college."

"I didn't have time to date in college, I was too busy making sure you didn't blow yourself up."

"Oh, come on, like _you_ didn't blow up our closet—"

"—that was _one_ time—"

"—trying to make homemade mead?" Tony finished, pointing his finger triumphantly.

"If you're trying to make this a contest, you will lose," Rhodey replied.

They kept reminiscing about their so-called glory days while Bruce and the pie dough rested. It was the day after Thanksgiving, but Tony still felt incredibly thankful.


	13. Games & Culture

Bruce sat up on the couch with a cough. He caught his breath and rubbed his eyes. He barely had a moment to collect his thoughts before Tony settled next to him with a bottle of water and some medicine. 

"Thanks, Tony," Bruce murmured. He took the pills and sipped some more water. Then he looked around and said, "Wait, where's your friend? Uh, Jim?"

"Oh, Rhodey went to take a shower. I just wanted to check in. I hope you don't mind that he's here. I really didn't know he was coming."

"Tony, of course, I'm happy to meet your friend. I, uh, I guess it would have been nice if I'd been dressed…" Bruce glanced down at his borrowed pajama pants and T-shirt.

Tony laughed. "Aw, c'mon, college kids wear their pajamas to class all the time. And besides, I've known Rhodey for a long time. He had to know that visiting me by surprise, there were good odds that he'd find something way more incriminating than a cute baker in flannel pants." Bruce bit his lip. Tony hastily added, "I mean, not, _incriminating_ , just, he's been with me through some...bad decisions I've made. Unlike having you here, which is a great decision, honestly."

"If you say so."

"I do say so," Tony said firmly. "How are you feeling?"

"Uh…" _Confused. Relieved. Scared. Tired. Achy. Uncomfortably vulnerable._

"Didn't realize I was asking a hard question," Tony said, with a wry smile. "Just let me know if you need anything. Or want anything, even if you don't think you need it."

Tentatively, Bruce rested his head against Tony's shoulder. Tony wrapped an arm around him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed," Bruce managed.

"You want to go back to sleep?"

"No, I'm not tired, just…"

"Just?"

Bruce again struggled to think about articulating what he wanted, what he needed. Finally he said, "Just, uh, ready to make another pie. It's been three hours, right?"

"Hmm," Tony said. "Well, yeah, it's been three hours. If that's what you want to do?"

"Yeah. I mean, the experiment is still in progress." Bruce shrugged out from Tony's embrace and stood up. Tony followed him back to the kitchen, where Bruce settled back on his high stool and Tony pulled the chilled dough out of the fridge and went for the wine bottle he'd been using as a rolling pin. "Oh, wait," Bruce said. "You should let it warm up for a little bit before you roll it out."

Tony whipped his head around, an incredulous look on his face. "What? It's supposed to be cold but not _too_ cold? What kind of Goldilocks shit is this?"

Bruce laughed at Tony's indignation, though something about Tony's impatience made Bruce worry. "You just have to let it sit out a few minutes. You can do it. It's way easier than taking care of me."

Tony visibly recoiled from Bruce's statement and came to sit next to him. "Hey, taking care of you is only hard because I hate seeing you so sick. And you're way cuter than a lump of dough."

Bruce ducked his head and smiled. "Thanks. I wasn't—I didn't mean—" He closed his eyes and shook his head. _Why was Bruce like this?_ (His therapist had a few ideas.)

Tony reached out and put his hand on Bruce's leg. Bruce sat quietly for a moment, letting Tony's touch ground him. Bruce thought about speaking up, about trying to put into words how overwhelmed he felt by Tony's affection, how unworthy. But he had just enough of a grip on reality to have a sense of what a downer that would be, so he kept quiet. 

Bruce heard footsteps in the kitchen, and his eyes flew open. He saw Jim—Rhodey—approaching the coffee maker. He'd changed out of his uniform and into jeans and a polo shirt, which made Bruce instantly feel more at ease with the man. Bruce knew that all kinds of perfectly nice people joined the military for all kinds of reasons—including college tuition—and he felt bad about judging someone based on their appearance, but all the same, he appreciated Jim's new attire.

"How's the pie coming?" Jim asked with a friendly smile.

Tony rolled his eyes dramatically. "Apparently the dough is _too_ cold now so we have to wait."

Jim laughed. "Baking could be a good hobby for you, Tony. Might teach you some patience."

"I have plenty of patience," Tony huffed. "I just hate wasting my time."

Bruce felt a pit settle in his stomach. Was he just wasting Tony's time? With the pie, with...everything? He was still shaken by Tony's casual assumption that Bruce would retire from teaching, but the academic hiring cycle meant that Bruce had already applied for a handful of teaching jobs at universities around the country. What if he got one of them? What if he was offered a tenure track position in, say, Connecticut? Would he be ready to leave California and start fresh _again_? Would he and Tony have a long distance relationship? Were they in a relationship now? He felt his breathing begin to speed up as he thought about it. 

Tony turned to look at him. "Hey, you okay?"

"Oh. Yeah, fine, just...fine." Bruce smiled and tried to get his breathing back to normal. Well, his current normal.

"Hm. Maybe you're just hungry. Is this pie dough ready yet?"

"Yeah, it should be okay to roll it out. Just make sure to—"

"—flour the surface, I remember," Tony said proudly. Bruce felt his smile grow more genuine as he watched Tony work. He had a look of concentration on his face and he was clearly trying his best to make the pie.

"Looking good, Tones," Rhodey commented. "You'll be ready for the Bake Off soon."

"Huh?" Tony asked.

"The Great British Bake Off," Jim said. "Or in America, the Great British Baking Show, but...no one calls it that." He glanced around. "You guys really don't know it?"

"I don't watch much TV," Bruce mumbled.

"I think I've heard of it, now that you mention it. But I don't watch baking shows. Since when do you?" Tony asked, as he put the empty pie crust in the oven to pre-bake.

"Well, it's been really popular. It's just really...relaxing," Rhodey said. "You should watch it."

"I guess I could do with some relaxing," Bruce admitted.

"We've been watching old episodes of the Price is Right. You remember that show?" Tony asked.

"Oh, yeah, of course. Classic," Jim said. "I used to always watch it when I was home sick."

"Exactly!" Tony crowed. He settled back onto his stool next to Bruce, and they chatted about daytime TV until JARVIS reminded Tony to take the pie crust out of the oven and add the pumpkin filling before putting it back.

"So how are you going to do this taste test?" Jim asked.

Tony thought for a moment and then said, "I'm going to call Pepper."

While Tony made the call, Jim looked at Bruce and said wryly, "This is how Tony solves most of his problems."

Bruce nodded. "Between Pepper and the 3-D printer, I think he can handle anything." He bit his lip and thought back to Pepper's background check on him. Was Bruce just another problem to be solved? He dug his fingernails into his palms for a moment, then forced himself to press his right palm flat against his thigh so he didn't fuck up his stitches further. Tony had seemed genuinely remorseful about Pepper's questions, and for that matter, so had Pepper. 

"Hey, Bruce, you okay?" Jim asked. 

"Hm? Yeah, fine, sorry...uh, this medicine I'm on makes me kind of out of it," Bruce said. "Or maybe I'd be more out of it if I weren't taking it." He wondered how much Tony had told Jim about him.

Jim nodded. "Well, thanks for letting me crash your Thanksgiving. I didn't realize Tony had company or I would have asked first. And I know it's hard to meet new people when you're not feeling well."

"Oh. No, I mean, I'm glad to meet you. And I'm just, honestly, a pretty awkward person even when I'm not sick, so at least now I have an excuse."

Jim laughed. "Hey, I went to MIT, I can work with awkward, believe me."

Tony slid back into his stool. "Rhodey, were you telling Bruce college stories without me?"

"Not yet," Jim said with a wide smile. "Where should I start?"

"Can you start with something that makes me sound impressive?" Tony asked.

"Hmm...I'm searching, I'm searching my memory banks but...not sure I'm coming up with anything," Jim said, with mock-concern.

"Hey!" Tony said.

"It's okay, I'm already pretty impressed with you," Bruce blurted out.

Tony beamed at him. "Yeah?"

"Bruce, stop, he's going to be unbearable," Jim said. He shook his head. "Well, you'll learn. Maybe after I tell you about the rocketry course Tony and I took together..."

Bruce managed to laugh at Tony and Jim's easy back and forth banter. They kept each other entertained with minimal involvement from Bruce until JARVIS reminded Tony to take the second pumpkin pie out of the oven.

Tony placed it on the counter and gazed at it proudly. 

"Looks good, Tones!" Jim said.

"Okay, but now forget what it looks like, so it can be a blind taste test," Tony insisted. He put it in the fridge and returned to his seat. They kept chatting until JARVIS announced that "Ms. Potts and Ms. Romanoff" had arrived. Bruce sat up a little straighter. He hadn't realized anyone besides Pepper was coming. He _really_ wished he weren't still wearing borrowed pajamas. He'd like to make a better first impression on Tony's friends.

But Tony and Jim were dressed casually, and when Pepper and Ms. Romanoff—Pepper's girlfriend, Natasha—appeared in the kitchen, they were both wearing yoga pants and loose T-shirts. They both still had a kind of casually polished glow about them, but Bruce at least didn't feel terribly under-dressed.

"So you made a pie?" Natasha asked.

"Two pies! With help from Bruce."

"I have to admit, I'm impressed," Pepper said.

"You haven't tasted them yet," Natasha said.

"That's a fair point," Pepper agreed. "And why we're here. Nat graciously offered to set up a blind taste test so that I could try them too."

"Nice," Tony enthused. "Well, how about if everyone goes to the living room, and I'll show Nat which pie is which."

Pepper, Bruce, and Jim agreed and headed for the living room. Bruce was a little embarrassed to be so outpaced by a man in leg braces, but then, Jim had had more time to adjust to his disability than Bruce had had time to adjust to his illness. Pepper slowed down to walk alongside Bruce.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, seeming sincerely concerned.

"Um, yeah, better, thanks."

"I'm glad. And I'm really glad—and impressed—that you got Tony out of his workshop and into the kitchen!"

"What? Oh, um, it was Tony's idea, actually," Bruce said. He hoped Pepper didn't think Bruce was being a demanding houseguest or anything.

"He must really want to show off for you, then," Pepper said, with a knowing smile.

Bruce thought back to Tony and Jim's earlier joking about trying to make Tony look impressive. He tried to understand why anyone would think that a billionaire tech genius would need to _try_ to impress a lowly adjunct professor like Bruce. Surely everyone must be teasing him, right? He was quiet as he tried to understand.

Pepper continued, "Look, Tony has a certain reputation, and I'm not saying it wasn't accurate at...some point in time. I...well. I guess I should stay out of it. But I'm happy you're here, and I know Tony is too."

"Thanks," Bruce said, hoping he didn't sound as confused as he felt. In the living room, he settled at the very end of the room's giant couch, putting a little space between himself and Pepper and Jim. Tony sauntered into the room holding two plates of pie. He handed a plate to Bruce and sat practically on top of Bruce, even though there was plenty of space on the couch. 

Natasha came in with two more plates and handed them to Jim and Pepper before joining them on the couch. "Is everyone ready for the pie tasting?" she asked.

"Wait, wait, how are we going to judge these?" Tony asked. "We need some metrics."

"A rubric," Bruce agreed.

"Oh my god," Natasha said. 

"No, I think they're right," Pepper said. "Okay, so maybe each pie we rate from 1-5 on, um, flavor?"

"And flakiness," Bruce added.

"Who gets to pick the Star Baker award?" Jim asked.

"Well, either way, it's Tony, right?" Bruce asked.

"It's just a matter of how much credit I'll owe you," Tony said. "Say, 50% if it turns out you really do need to refrigerate the dough. If not, let's say 12% for talking me through the basic process."

"Twelve percent?" Pepper said. "That's ridiculous."

"It's not a big deal," Bruce said.

"Fifteen percent?" Tony suggested. 

Natasha cleared her throat. "Okay. You'll taste one pie and rate it from 1-5 points each for general flavor and again for flakiness, with 1 being the lowest score and 5 being the best score. Start with the pie with the wine charm on it. We'll call that one Pie A." Bruce looked down at his plate and noticed that one pie did indeed have a colorful little charm dangling off the crust. Natasha added, "I was going to use toothpicks or something but the only thing Tony had in his kitchen was wine glass charms."

"Sue me, it's more important for me that people know which wine glass is theirs than it is that they can pick things out of their teeth between flossing," Tony grumbled. 

Bruce laughed.

Natasha said, "The toothpicks aren't actually for—you know what, never mind, everyone take a bite of Pie A."

"Aren't you going to have any?" Bruce asked.

"I'm going to wait and make sure that you all survive this tasting," Natasha said.

"Oh, come on," Tony huffed.

"It's actually pretty good," Jim said.

Pepper took a small bite. "Hey, yeah, it is!" She took another, larger bite.

"You don't have to sound so surprised," Tony said. Then he took a bite and said, "Oh, it _is_ good! ...just as I knew it would be."

Bruce smiled and took a bite. "It is good," he agreed cautiously. 

"Ready to put a numerical value on 'good'?" Natasha asked.

"I'll say a 4 on flavor and a 3 on flakiness," Jim offered.

"What? This pie is obviously 5s across the board," Tony said.

Bruce and Pepper gave their scores, and JARVIS tallied them. Then they moved on to Pie B. It was better than Pie A, Bruce knew immediately. It reminded him of the ones his mom used to bake. He savored it.

"This one is way better," Jim said. "So flaky. Definitely Star Baker material."

They tallied up the scores and Pie B won by an average of 1.2 points—though Tony had stubbornly rated both pies 5s and claimed he thought they were both good. Bruce was unsurprised then Natasha revealed that Pie B was the one whose dough had been refrigerated.

"Okay, fine, maybe it was better," Tony admitted. "But I also think that I was right and you can make a pretty good pie without waiting."

"Since when have you been happy with 'pretty good'?" Jim asked. "You're such a perfectionist in your workshop."

"Well, if you're just going to eat it and destroy the evidence anyway," Tony said. "It's different for a design that's going to be mass-produced for the market."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "So you're saying that if you're just going to consume it and put it into your body, why take the time to make it good?"

"Well—okay, fine, when you put it like that," Tony grumbled. "I guess some things are worth waiting for." He slipped an arm around Bruce's shoulders, and Bruce gave a small smile. 

Natasha brought the rest of the pies out, and between the five of them—Natasha having decided that the pies were nontoxic—they made a sizable dent in the pies, even Tony's inferior pie. Bruce felt full and sleepy, and he'd been on the verge of excusing himself to go to bed when Pepper reached into her giant purse and pulled out a Trivial Pursuit game. 

"Anyone up for some little plastic pies?" she asked.

Tony sat up straighter in his chair. "Yes! You're going down!"

"Big talk coming from a guy who finished third-place last time we played," Natasha said.

"It's not my fault the sports and games category is rigged." Tony turned to Bruce. "You feeling up to playing?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, it's not really a high-impact activity, is it?"

"Not the way most people play it," Jim muttered.

"What?" Bruce asked.

"Ignore him," Tony said. "He's just bitter about coming in _fourth_ -place last time."

They pulled the big couch apart into sections and rearranged themselves to sit evenly around the beautiful wooden table. Pepper said, "We're playing by the _rules_ as printed. No house rules. Does anyone need a refresher? _Nat_?"

"I resent any implication that I may have cheated," Natasha said primly.

" _May_ have cheated?" Tony asked, his eyebrows raised.

Pepper cleared her throat. "Look, we have a new player joining the game, why don't we consider this a fresh start for everyone?"

"Sounds good," Jim said. "I call blue." He reached out and took the round blue plastic playing piece to plunk it down in the middle of the board. They all rolled to see who would go first; the honor fell to Bruce, who felt oddly nervous about the whole thing. There seemed to be a lot of pressure on this board game. Still—Bruce was smart, and he managed to get a handful of questions right before stalling out on a question about Super Bowl XLVI (apparently the only one to have been played in Indianapolis; who knew?) 

He let out a shaky breath and passed the die to Jim, on his right. Then he leaned a little against Tony, on his left. In response, Tony put his arm around Bruce. Bruce tried to relax, to feel reassured by Tony's presence and to enjoy the game with his new friends. They were all pretty intense about it, engaging in a lot more shit-talking than Bruce normally associated with Trivial Pursuit. But they largely left Bruce out of it, which he appreciated.

Natasha drew a card to read for Tony. She smirked. "No way you're going to know this one, Stark."

"Oh yeah? What do you bet me?"

" _No side bets_ during Trivial Pursuit," Pepper said firmly. 

"Fine, fine, then just for bragging rights, what's the question?"

Still smirking, Natasha said, "In 1990, the Cincinnati Reds deliberately walked what member of the Chicago Cubs 5 times in an effort to break a record that had been previously set by Roger Maris and Garry Templeton?"

Tony tapped his fingers on the table with irritation. "Well, who cares? Baseball is so boring."

"I care," Natasha said. "You care. Because you get that green pie wedge if you get it right."

"Uh...Sammy Sosa?" Tony said.

"In _1990_?" Jim asked.

"Oh. Um—"

"No, you know the rules, that was your final answer," Nat said. "Your final, incorrect answer. The record was set by—"

"Andre Dawson," Jim said.

"That's correct, although it gets you nothing," Natasha said.

"Nothing but bragging rights!" Jim said.

"How did you know that?" Tony asked.

"C'mon, Andre _Dawson_ ," Jim said. "Hall of Famer!"

"Let's move on," Tony said, passing the die to Bruce.

Bruce rolled and ended up on the scoring space for science and nature. Pepper said, "Okay, this is for plastic pie! Katherine Johnson was one of many African-American women hired to work as 'computers' for what government agency, ultimately winning the Presidential Medal of Freedom for her work?"

Bruce thought for a moment before answering, "NACA."

Pepper frowned. "Wait, what did you say?"

"NACA, the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics. It, uh, predated NASA."

"Sorry, Bruce, the card says NASA."

"You can't overthink these questions," Natasha advised. "You just have to go with your gut."

Bruce laughed. "That's always been a problem for me." He passed the die to Jim with a shrug.

"Wait, seriously, you're not giving him the point for that?" Tony said. "That's ridiculous. He obviously knows the answer."

"Well, he didn't _say_ the answer that's on the _card_ ," Pepper said.

"It's not a big deal," Bruce muttered.

"It is a big deal! It's for a pie piece!" Tony said. He was getting louder, and Bruce felt his body tense up. "You should speak up for yourself, Bruce!"

"It's just a game," Bruce said, trying to discreetly burrow inside the couch.

"Right. So, in that spirit, I'm going to take my turn…" Jim said. He rolled the die and started to move his piece.

But Tony continued, "Wait, that should count! Give Bruce a pie piece!"

Natasha shrugged. "He didn't say the answer on the card."

"We agreed to play by the _rules_ ," Pepper insisted.

"Please stop fighting!" Bruce said. Everyone turned to look at him, and he realized he'd spoken more loudly than he meant to. He dug his nails into his palms, trying to calm himself down. Tony rubbed Bruce's back, but Bruce flinched at the touch. "Sorry," he said. "I just...sorry."

Pepper sighed. "No, you're right, it's just a game. I don't need to be that intense about the rules. Since it doesn't seem like _you're_ trying to cheat."

"It's okay, I think it's Jim's turn," Bruce said, hoping his voice sounded steady. "Please, let's just move on."

Jim said, "Why don't you give Bruce a re-do? Just read him a different science question."

Pepper nodded. "That seems fair to me. Is it okay with everyone else?"

"I still think you should just give him the point for his answer," Tony grumbled. "But it's fine with me if it's fine with Bruce."

Bruce nodded, hoping to just get this over with as soon as possible. Pepper drew another card from the box and asked, "What is the densest naturally-occurring element?"

Bruce knew that the answer was osmium, but he debated getting it wrong on purpose so the game would move on and everyone would stop looking at him. But he was pretty sure that Tony would know that Bruce should know this one. Pepper said, kindly, "Do you need me to repeat the question?"

"Oh. Sorry." Bruce was definitely spiraling. He said, "Um, osmium." Pepper smiled and handed him a little brown plastic wedge to put in his round marker. Bruce accepted it with much less fuss than most of his fellow players made when they earned pie pieces.

"Roll again," Pepper prompted him.

"Right. Sorry." Bruce rolled the die while mentally crunching the numbers on if everyone would think worse of him if he left the game in the middle or if he kept trying to play while he was on the verge of dissociating. He was so stupid and sensitive, just like his father had always said.

" _Bruce_?" Pepper said, and her tone implied that it was not the first time she'd tried to get his attention.

"Sorry. I—sorry, it's, you know what, I'm just actually really tired so I think I'm going to bow out and go to bed," Bruce said. "But um, this was fun, I hope we can all play some other time, when, uh, I'm not taking so much codeine."

"Are you sure?" Jim asked. "Because I bet I can win on this next roll, wrap things up like that." He snapped his fingers.

Bruce smiled. "I'm not willing to bet against you. Good night." He rose to his feet and headed upstairs. Tony hopped up and followed him. "Tony, you should finish the game. Really, I'm fine, just tired."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be right back," Tony said, continuing to follow Bruce out of the room and up the stairs. Tony watched with concern as Bruce paused to catch his breath at the top of the stairs. Bruce felt so weak. He was sick of feeling that way.

Up in the privacy of Bruce's guest bedroom, Tony said, "Bruce, really, are you okay? You seem kinda…"

"I'm just tired," Bruce repeated. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and Tony sat next to him.

"Really? Because...you can tell me. If it's something else. I'm sorry if the game got a little intense."

Bruce let out a long breath. "Yeah. It—I guess it did. Sorry, I know it's just a game, but I just…"

"Bruce, stop apologizing," Tony said firmly. "It is just a game, and the rest of us were the ones taking it too seriously. I mean, it's all in good fun, but I can see how...it might have seemed...a little bit intense to a newcomer."

"Well. Yeah. And I—I'm just not very good at being around, uh, conflict." Bruce chewed his lip. "It's something I've been working on in therapy, but I...I think I'm just a little off-balance right now."

"That makes sense," Tony said kindly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Bruce forced a smile. "No, no, you should get back to the game."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Really, I'm just going to sleep. Go visit with your friends." Bruce tried to project confidence. He really didn't want to ruin Tony's fun.

Tony leaned over and kissed Bruce on the cheek, right at the corner of his mouth. "Okay," he said softly. "But if you need anything, just say the word and JARVIS will let me know. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Tony."

"Wait, do you want some cough syrup?" Tony asked, already fussing with the bottle.

"I can get it…" Ignoring him, Tony carefully measured a dose and handed it to Bruce. "Thanks."

"Sleep tight," Tony replied.

"Have fun," Bruce said, after choking down the dose of cough syrup. "Good luck."

"I don't need luck! I have _skill_."

Bruce smiled, and Tony went back downstairs to finish the cut-throat game of Trivial Pursuit. Bruce changed out of his pajamas into different pajamas and climbed into bed. He hasn't exactly been lying; he really was tired. But his brain wasn't ready for sleep. He was still keyed up into some kind of dumb fight-or-flight response elicited by his friends squabbling over a board game. He tried some meditation exercises, but in the end, he asked JARVIS to play some more old Price is Right episodes. He drifted off into a kind of half-sleep trance, and stirred when the door opened.

"Sorry!" Tony whispered.

"Mm. It's okay. I wasn't asleep."

"Watching Price is Right without me?" Tony asked with a pout.

"We can watch them again. I don't think I caught all the nuance on this viewing. How'd the game go?"

"Completely rigged," Tony said.

Bruce laughed.

Tony added, "I came in second to Natasha, which I feel completely fine and reasonable about because it's just a board game and not worth getting worked up over. Also I still beat Rhodey."

"Congratulations," Bruce said solemnly.

"Everyone says they hope you feel better soon, by the way. I think there's some hope that you can be the voice of reason the next time we play."

"That seems like a lot of responsibility."

"I think you'll be up to the challenge. Once you regain normal human lung capacity." Tony quickly prepared for bed and slid in next to Bruce. "Hey, c'mere," he said, rolling on his side and opening his arms. Bruce curled against him happily and Tony said, "I just, I'm so sorry if you didn't feel safe here."

"It's not you, it's me," Bruce mumbled, and laughed to himself.

"You can tell me things, you know? I feel like you've been kind of off all day and I...I can't read your mind. But I want to help. If I can."

In the darkness, it felt easier for Bruce to be honest. He said, "Well...it just feels like things are happening really quickly, with you and me, and I...I really like you but I'm afraid…"

"Afraid of what?"

"I guess...afraid you'll change your mind. I don't know. I've never...I've never really been honest with someone, about...my past. And I always figured...that if anyone knew, that they'd...that they wouldn't…" he sighed and trailed off. Tony tightened his arms around Bruce.

"Bruce, listen to me. I'm so sorry for what you went through, but I'd never think any less of you for it. I hope you'll believe me."

"I'll try."

"I guess that's all I can ask." Tony gently rubbed Bruce's hand. "I'm scared too, you know."

"I'm not going to die."

"Not that. I mean, a little bit that, but I do think you're on the mend. But I mean, I...I've never...this is the longest I've ever been with anyone. I always figured people would get sick of me if we were together for too long."

"Sick of you?" 

"Yeah. I know that I'm...a lot."

"A lot what?" Bruce asked, feeling sleepy and stupid.

"Just, you know. A lot to deal with."

Bruce twisted around to look at Tony, registering the hurt on his face. "Hey. You're not a lot. You're...the right amount."

He leaned in and pecked Tony on the lips, then rolled back over so that his back was again to Tony. 

"Get some sleep," Tony said, sounding pleased. "You gotta be well-rested for the Trivial Pursuit rematch in the morning."

"Seriously?"

"Only if you want to. I promise a conflict-free game."

Bruce shook his head. He was amused and touched that Tony still wanted to be with him. "Good night, Tony."

"Good night."


	14. Group Dynamics

In the morning, Tony decided to let a sleeping Bruce lie. He changed into jeans and a vintage T-shirt and went down to the kitchen, where Rhodey was lounging with a newspaper, a half-eaten slice of pie, and—thank god—a fresh pot of coffee. Tony poured himself a cup.

Rhodey said, "You're up early. For you."

"I went to bed early. For me. Good to see you too."

Rhodey grinned. "Yeah, yeah, good morning. How's Bruce doing?"

"Still asleep."

"I meant, you know, he seemed pretty upset yesterday. I hope we didn't turn him off of Trivial Pursuit forever."

"Oh. No, I—he's okay. He's just been…through a lot."

"So have you," Rhodey observed.

Tony shrugged and stole a bite of pie off of Rhodey's plate. "So have _you_."

"I just mean, I hope you're not always stepping on eggshells around this guy. And get your own pie."

"It's not like that. It's just, he's been so sick, and…" Tony hesitated. He didn't feel like it was his place to tell Bruce's whole life story to Rhodey, but maybe he could say some of it. To just give Rhodey a little more context. "Look, he—you know I told you Pepper did a background check on him?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, he came from a really abusive home, and—well, he knows he reacted a little strongly to the game but he just got kind of freaked out by raised voices."

"But _you_ get freaked out by silence," Rhodey said.

"What? No, I don't." Tony got up to get his own piece of pie.

"You do," Rhodey said. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. Bruce seems like a sweet guy, but _you're_ my best friend and I just want to make sure you're with someone who isn't going to make you feel like shit for being yourself."

"He doesn't!"

"I just don't want you to feel like you need to change yourself."

"Maybe I do, though, a little bit," Tony said. "I—I think being with Bruce has opened my eyes to some stuff that I hadn't really thought about. The same way that becoming friends with you did. And you have to admit, we were going pretty hard on a board game."

After a pause, Rhodey nodded. "Okay. Well, maybe you're right. As long as you're happy."

JARVIS interjected, "Excuse me, sirs, but it may be of interest to you that Dr. Banner is currently on his way downstairs."

"Thanks, J."

"God, you are so lucky to have someone to keep you from talking about people in earshot of them," Rhodey said.

"Unfortunately, JARVIS's real-world reach is limited," Tony said. "He could have saved me some awkward moments at some corporate retreats, for sure."

"My apologies, sir," JARVIS said.

"Not your fault. Just a future hardware challenge for me to work on."

"I look forward to seeing what you come up with."

Tony hadn't really put that much thought into it before, but now he realized that it would be pretty easy to connect JARVIS to some smart glasses and an earpiece. He itched to get into the workshop to put something together, but then Bruce showed up in the kitchen. He was freshly showered and wearing khakis and an Oxford shirt.

"Good morning," Bruce said softly.

"Hey, Brucie-Goosey!" Tony sang out. Bruce raised his eyebrows. "Okay, we can workshop the nickname," Tony added.

"Why didn't I ever get to workshop _my_ nickname?" Rhodey asked.

"Okay, what's your feedback on 'Rhodey'?"

"I...you know what, Rhodey's fine. I just wish you wouldn't call me 'Honeybear' and 'Platypus' in front of my colleagues."

Bruce joined them at the counter, hiding a laugh behind his hand.

Rhodey said, "Sure, Bruce, you're laughing now, but wait till he calls you Sugarplum Dumpling at your next faculty meeting."

Bruce stopped laughing and he turned to look at Tony.

Tony said, "Well, what do you care? What are they going to do, pay you even _less_ of a living wage?"

Bruce sighed. "I guess that's a fair point. Anyway, at this point, it's not like my academic reputation can get any worse."

"What do you mean?" Rhodey asked.

"This is my fifth one-year appointment in five years. The market is so competitive that the littlest things can follow you around."

"Like what?"

"Oh...I mean, my first appointment was at Culver University and I tried to speak up for the grad students unionizing and...well." Bruce gave a little shrug. "That was the first strike against me. Uh, so to speak, we didn't even go on strike. But I may have...lost my temper at some public meetings. Plus then there was, well, I told you about the more profitable direction that I could have taken my research. That's more or less been the ball game for me. I'm barely hanging onto the adjunct bench. At least until I can publish something new and exciting."

"It's so fucked up," Tony said.

"Academia is kind of a fucked up system," Bruce said.

"What's your research?" Rhodey asked.

"Oh, uh, my main research is on gamma radiation, and I've been approached by the Department of Defense to try to weaponize it…" Bruce trailed off. He shot a quick glance at Rhodey and then directed his eyes to the table.

"Ah," Rhodey said. "So what do you want to do with it?"

Bruce said, "Part of my problem is that I'm most interested in purely theoretical stuff. I get really interested in ideas, concepts, and then someone else looks at my research and wants to use it to kill people. I...I don't know. I guess I could try to refocus on trying to find, I don't know, medical applications for my research? But maybe it's all a moot point."

Tony felt more determined than ever that Bruce should just quit teaching and work with Tony, but he also knew he had to tread carefully. Bruce had seemed pretty wary the last time Tony had mentioned it. But then he thought about what Rhodey had said, about walking on eggshells around Bruce. And then he blurted out, "You should quit and work with me."

Bruce gave Tony an exasperated smile. "Yeah, probably," he said. 

"I'm serious. I'll fund theoretical research. I'll fund whatever you want to do."

"It's just, I don't know. I like research, but I also like _teaching_. I like the students. I just don't like the people in charge."

Rhodey raised his mug. "I'll drink to that," he said.

"You should quit your job too, Rhodey."

"Yeah, yeah," Rhodey said, and Tony saw him exchange an amused glance with Bruce. That was good, Tony thought. If he could get the two of them allied against Tony—well, it would definitely result in some ribbing. But he could take that if it meant two of his favorite people were friends.

"Bruce, you want some breakfast pie?" Tony asked. "There's plenty."

"Oh, um, not right now, thanks," Bruce said. Instead, he took a banana from the fruit bowl that Pepper had restocked. 

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone eat out of that fruit bowl," Rhodey said. "I always thought it was decorative."

"I eat fruit! Sometimes," Tony said. "But not when there's pie."

"I will eat some pie later," Bruce said. 

"You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, just looking forward to finishing my course of antibiotics tomorrow," Bruce replied, with a slight grimace.

Rhodey nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, those can mess with you."

"I mean, I'd rather deal with that then create a superbug or whatever, just…" Bruce shrugged and took another unenthusiastic bite of his banana.

"Yeah," Rhodey agreed. "But you're feeling better overall?"

"Definitely better than last week, yeah. But I think I overdid it yesterday, food-wise."

"That happens to me every year on Thanksgiving even when I'm not on antibiotics," Rhodey said.

"I don't think it was just the food. The doctor said it might take weeks before he's back to full strength," Tony said. "Pneumonia is serious."

"It turns out that your lungs are kind of important," Bruce said. "Who knew?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm glad you got the memo eventually." 

Bruce shrugged and threw his banana peel in the compost bin.

"You up for a Trivial Pursuit rematch?" Tony asked. "Nat and Pepper aren't here so it'll be a little bit less cutthroat."

"Can I get that in writing?" Rhodey asked.

Tony made a face and turned to look at Bruce. "Bruce? You in?"

Bruce only paused briefly before answering, "Sure."

The three of them went back to the living room. Tony kept Bruce tucked up against his side, and for a while he and Rhodey were on their best behavior. But as the game went on, they slipped back into their trash talking habits. 

"In your face!" Tony crowed, after managing to somehow pull the name "Wislawa Szymborska" out of the depths of his memory (or maybe just out of his ass). "Pie, please."

Rhodey huffed and threw the pink plastic piece at Tony with more force than was strictly necessary. Tony felt Bruce flinch against him. 

"Sorry," Rhodey said.

Bruce shook his head. "It's okay. I'm just jumpy."

Tony rubbed Bruce's forearm quickly before rolling the die for his next move. The game continued on, and Bruce seemed fine. A little quiet, maybe, but he didn't completely shut down. He kept playing and ended the game in second place. Rhodey won, which left Tony in last place, to Rhodey's delight.

Still, after a moment of gloating, Rhodey turned to Bruce and said, "Good game, man."

"Thanks," Bruce said. "Not as good as you, though."

"Well, maybe next time," Rhodey said gracefully.

"Except next time, I'm going to win," Tony said.

"Can you believe this guy?" Rhodey asked Bruce, gesturing at Tony with his thumb.

"He's something," Bruce said, but he was smiling and his tone sounded fond. Tony remembered Bruce's sleepy statement that Tony wasn't "too much," that he was "the right amount," and he smiled too. 

"Who's ready for lunch? More pie?" Tony asked.

Rhodey groaned. "I should probably eat a vegetable first."

"Sweet potato pie is a vegetable," Tony said.

"I think there are still some green beans," Bruce said, as they walked back to the kitchen.

"Yeah, okay," Rhodey said.

Tony nudged Bruce. " _You're_ a green bean."

"Okay?" Bruce said.

"Careful, Bruce, this is how he gets started with the nicknames," Rhodey said. "You eat _one_ packet of Sour Patch Kids…"

"That's not why I call you Sour Patch," Tony said. "I call you Sour Patch because sometimes you're just a big grump." He opened the fridge and pulled out a container of green beans. "And sometimes _Bruce_ is a cute little green bean."

"Only sometimes?" Bruce asked, amused.

"Fine, encourage him," Rhodey said. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He put the green beans in the microwave while Tony set out other leftovers on the counter. 

The three of them brought their plates back to the living room, where they sprawled out and let Rhodey put on episodes of the Great British Bake Off. They ate and admired the bakers and made a list of things they might try to bake in the future. At some point, Bruce curled up with his head on Tony's lap and fell asleep. Tony sat very still, so as not to disturb him. He smiled down at his lap and stroked Bruce's hair for a while, then looked up and saw that Rhodey was smiling at them.

"Okay, you guys are cute," Rhodey said softly.

"Obviously," Tony agreed.

"He snores really loudly though."

"Leave him alone, he's sick."

"I'm just saying, you might need to invest in earplugs."

"I can afford it," Tony said. He didn't point out that Bruce's snoring had actually improved in the week that he'd been here. Sure, he hoped that the snoring would be fully cured when Bruce's health was restored, but if it wasn't, well, he could live with it. He added, "Anyway, it's kinda cute, isn't it? He sounds like a...grumbly bear."

Rhodey made a face and laughed. "You're in deep, Tony."

Tony glanced down at Bruce, who was still asleep. "Maybe." Then he looked back up at the screen and said, "What does cardamom taste like?"

"Uh...it's like, you ever have chai tea?" Rhodey asked, unfazed by the change of subject.

"Yeah, I think so."

"It's in that, usually."

"Oh. That sounds good."

"Yeah." Tony and Rhodey kept chatting through a few more episodes of Bake Off, and then Bruce stirred. He stretched and sat up, bringing an end to the snores. "Hey, welcome back, Green Bean."

Bruce crinkled his nose. "That's sticking, huh?"

"I warned you, Bruce," Rhodey said.

"I guess it could be worse."

"Don't tempt him," Rhodey replied. He exchanged a look with Bruce, and they both laughed. Tony smiled.

"So how are you feeling?" Tony asked.

"Mm. Better. Pretty good, really, I just still get so tired. It's going to be rough going back to work on Monday."

"Don't," Tony said.

Bruce laughed. "I have to. There's only two weeks between Thanksgiving break and finals, it's such a busy time. I'll just have to take naps at my desk between classes."

Tony's stomach fell. "Isn't that how you got so sick in the first place?"

"Not...exactly."

"You should rest. Get a substitute teacher or something. Do we have those?"

Bruce shook his head. "Just our TAs, but they're busy with their own final projects. I don't want to put too much on them. Anyway, it's only Saturday. Hopefully I'll be better by Monday."

Rhodey shook his head. "Hey JARVIS, can you check the temperature in hell?"

"The temperature in Hell, Michigan is currently 21 degrees Fahrenheit."

"I knew it! Hell is frozen over," Rhodey crowed. "And Tony Stark is encouraging someone to work less and sleep more."

"He's sick," Tony said. "Sue me for being concerned."

"No, no, it's good that you're concerned, but you have to admit it's a little bit funny? I mean, how many times have I found _you_ slumped over at your workstation? Or borderline delirious because you _won't_ take a nap at your desk?"

"Well, I have a lot of work to do," Tony said.

Rhodey smiled. "I'm glad you'll have Bruce around to share the load with."

Bruce offered a shy smile. Tony said, "Me, too. But, Bruce, you have a follow-up appointment on Monday morning. Let's see what the doctor says about you going back to work."

"Okay," Bruce agreed, and Tony tabled the rest of the discussion until Monday.

The three of them spent the rest of the weekend in a similar fashion: relaxing, eating, and watching calming British reality television, until Rhodey announced that he needed to leave. He changed back into his uniform and brought his duffle bag down.

"I'll give you a ride," Tony said.

"No, no, I got a rental car and I need to return it."

"You _know_ I would have picked you up."

"I was trying to surprise you!" Rhodey said. "'Surprise, come pick me up' isn't as good of a surprise as 'surprise, I'm here.'"

"That's fair," Tony agreed. "But still, next time, call me."

Rhodey saluted and then pulled Tony into a hug. "Good to see you, Tony."

Then he turned and hugged a surprised-looking Bruce. He whispered something in Bruce's ear; whatever he said made Bruce smile. 

When they pulled apart, Bruce said, "It was good to meet you, Jim. Uh, have a safe flight."

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "What did I just say?"

"Oh, uh, good to meet you, Rhodey?" Bruce said tentatively. 

Rhodey grinned. "It was good to meet you too, Green Bean."

"I knew it! You like the nicknames!" Tony said.

"They're okay," Rhodey said, but he was still smiling. "See you around, Tones."

Rhodey left, and Tony turned to Bruce. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," Bruce said.

"Hmm. Then, can we talk?"

Bruce's eyes widened, but he nodded.

"Let's sit in the living room." 

They sat down on the couch, but Bruce was sitting up straight and eyeing Tony nervously. "Hey, relax, Brucie-bear, it's nothing bad. I just...I feel like we can only have honest conversations when you're feverish or half-asleep or suffering from blood loss or whatever. So I just wanted to try to talk to you now, when you're, uh, okay. Is...is this a good time to have a conversation?"

"Oh. Okay. Sure." Bruce crossed his arms over his chest.

"The thing is, you're mostly really good at pretending you're okay. If you hadn't gotten sick and cut your hand, I'm not sure if I ever would have realized you were living out of your car."

Bruce nodded, but he looked confused. "Yeah," he said, and Tony had a suspicion that that was exactly what Bruce had wanted.

"Well...Bruce, I care about you, and I'd like to know when you're not okay. I want to believe that you'll tell me when you're not okay, sometime before you reach your breaking point. I'm...worried that when we go back to work, that you're going to push yourself too hard, and keep telling me you're okay until you end up in the hospital."

"Oh."

Tony exhaled. "You could say something slightly more reassuring than 'Oh.'"

Bruce's shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry, Tony. I really just don't want to bother anyone."

"You're not going to bother me, Bruce. It bothers me when I don't know until too late how bad you're feeling."

"You're...really sweet, Tony."

"Bruce, I'm pretty much doing the bare minimum as a decent human being. Please raise your bar."

"No, you're not," Bruce said. "You've taken such good care of me, and, and you called the doctor, and you baked two pies, and you took me into your home…"

"And yet I didn't even notice how bad you were feeling on Friday until it was too late. I wish you would have told me sooner."

"I...I wanted to meet your friends. And I didn't want to ruin the game, Tony, I really was trying to keep it together."

"But you didn't need to keep it together." Bruce twisted his hands together and looked miserable. Tony took another stab at putting his feelings into words. "Okay. It's just...if I can't count on you to tell me when you're feeling bad, then I worry about you more, because if you seem like you're fine...maybe you're fine, maybe you're not. But if sometimes you tell me that you're not fine, then I can believe you when you say you're fine. It's like—do you remember? When you found me having a panic attack in my office, and you said it was okay if I wasn't okay?"

Bruce nodded.

"So why can't you take your own advice?" Tony demanded.

Bruce quirked his lips. "It's not really my advice. It's something my last therapist used to say to me a lot. I...I guess maybe it doesn't show, but I really am working on it," he said plaintively. "I don't...I don't always know how I'm feeling, even. I've spent so long trying not to have any feelings. There's just a lot of layers of repressed feelings to get through."

Tony felt his heart twinge, both with sorrow for Bruce and also a hint of familiarity. "Okay," he said. "I get that. Um. What if you tried to put a numerical value on it? How about I just check in with you, and I ask how you're feeling on a scale of one to five, and you promise to be honest?"

"What if we check in on each other? I mean—when I found you having a panic attack that day in your office, Tony, I was so surprised, I had no idea that you would ever feel that way. You always seem so put together to me. And all your friends seem to think you're some kind of sleepless workaholic. I—I haven't seen that side of you."

"I—okay. Fine. We can check in with each other. One to five."

"With five being the flakiest?" Bruce asked.

Tony grinned. "Well, with a pie, you want it to be flakier. But I think for humans, one would be the flakiest. So, how are you feeling?"

Bruce considered. "I think like a four. I feel pretty good. I—I am a little worried about going back to classes. But right now I'm feeling pretty well-rested. How about you?"

Tony opened his mouth to say "five," but instead, he paused and said, "Probably a four, too. A four also, I mean. I'm physically okay but I'm worried about you. And I miss Rhodey. I hadn't seen him in too long."

"He seems like a really good friend."

"Yeah. I know the surprise visit was a little, uh, surprising, but I'm glad you two got to meet each other. Hey, who's _your_ best friend?"

"I...I guess I don't really have one," Bruce admitted. "When I was a kid I was pretty close to my cousin Jen, but after...I haven't talked to her in years. And then since grad school, I've been moving around every year, so I haven't really had a chance to get close to anyone as an adult. Or I haven't taken the chance, I guess. I mean, I was trying pretty hard not to get close to you." He swallowed. "Don't get me wrong, I, uh, I'm glad I failed at that. But...I'm pretty out of practice. With all of this."

Tony had basically gathered all of those bits of Bruce's story, but hearing it all together in the cold light of morning made Tony's heart ache for Bruce. Tony had known a lot of loneliness, but at least he'd had Rhodey. And Pepper, and JARVIS, and even Nat. He turned suddenly and pulled Bruce into a hug. Bruce flinched at first, but quickly relaxed and hugged Tony back.

After a long hug, Bruce mumbled, "Hey, want to watch more Great British Bake Off?"

"I thought you'd never ask."


	15. Human Sexuality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My long-suffering readers: Why don't you ever write sex scenes?  
> Me: Well, if that's what you want, here you go!  
> Long-suffering readers: Oh...but could you write one that's actually sexy instead of weird and awkward?  
> Me: Nope!
> 
> So, uh...enjoy? Or don't! Either way I'm sure you know how to find way smuttier fanfictions if you want them.

Bruce had wanted to sleep in on Monday morning, but instead he'd had an anxiety dream about missing his classes and found himself wide awake at 6AM. Tony was still asleep next to him, so Bruce tried to lie still and practice some meditation techniques. His lungs really had cleared up, and he marveled at how nice it felt to be able to take in a full breath.

He breathed in and out and tried to empty his mind, but he kept thinking back to the conversation he'd had with Tony yesterday, to the conversations Tony kept trying to have with him. It was still hard to believe that Tony really did care about Bruce, but...there he was, lying next to Bruce, with cute bedhead and a peaceful expression on his face. Surely he wouldn't still be there if he didn't care. What else could he possibly be gaining from this? Tony could be in bed with anyone he wanted, couldn't he? And he'd chosen to be with a sick, anxious adjunct professor.

Bruce rolled over onto his side and propped his head up on his elbow, on top of the ridiculous stack of pillows. He watched Tony breathe in and out. He felt a little creepy, but it seemed like he was allowed to do this. And Tony really was adorable.

Then Tony stirred. His eyes fluttered open and he stretched his arms up over his head. Then his eyes focused on Bruce and his eyebrows quirked in amusement. "Is there something on my face?"

"You're just really nice to look at."

Tony smiled, then narrowed his eyes. "Wait, is your fever back?"

"No!" Bruce said, but Tony reached out to check his forehead anyway. "I can't just give you a compliment?" He felt guilty that Tony would think that way. Bruce supposed he hadn't been very demonstrative with Tony; he'd assumed his desperate crush on Tony was obvious. And being sick had made him feel so exposed and vulnerable; god knew what kinds of things he'd said at the height of his fever. But when he thought about it, when he was lucid, he'd spent most of his time trying to reassure Tony that he didn't have to spend time with Bruce, and not time enough letting Tony know that Bruce truly did want to be with him.

Tony drew his hand down to Bruce's cheek and let it linger there. "Well, of course you can. You should feel free to give me as many compliments as you want. I just wanted to make sure you were feeling okay."

"I'm sorry if I haven't...if I...can I kiss you?"

Tony's smile widened. "I thought you'd never ask."

Bruce rolled off of his pillows and brought his face to Tony's. He kissed Tony, tentatively at first, but Tony responded warmly, tangling his fingers in Bruce's hair. Bruce pulled away to catch his breath, then he shifted his weight and brought his body over Tony's, pleased to feel that Tony was responding to Bruce's attentions.

Then Tony pulled back and asked, "Bruce, are you...how are you feeling?"

"Good. I—how are you feeling?"

"I just wanted to make sure that you...you're not doing this just because you think I want to?"

"You don't want to?"

"I do, I do, I really do, but, only if you want to. Only if you feel up to it." In response, Bruce pressed his erection against Tony's thigh. Tony's eyes widened. "Okay, feels like...you're up to it." He grinned. "Before we get too much further, I should say that I've been tested in the last six months and I'm clean."

Bruce said, "Oh god, I haven't...I mean it's been awhile since I've been tested, but it's been even longer since I've been, um, exposed." He felt himself blushing. Tony sucked and kissed at Bruce's throat, making Bruce's breath come in a stuttered gasp.

"Then let's take our time," Tony purred. "Wait, sorry, what time is it?"

"It's like 6:30 AM," Bruce said, hoping JARVIS wouldn't interrupt with the exact time. 

"And your follow-up appointment is at 9 AM, right?"

"Right," Bruce agreed.

" _Excellent._ Now, where were we? Oh, yes, I remember," Tony said, dragging Bruce's mouth back to his for a kiss that left Bruce dizzy. They started to peel each others' clothes off, and Tony said, "Jesus, you're not a green bean, you're a Jolly Green Giant."

"Oh…" Bruce felt his cheeks flush hotter.

"Wow," Tony said, still admiring Bruce's anatomy. "So, hey, I have lube and...fun stuff in my bedroom. Or we could stay here and keep it...simple. Whatever you want. It'll be a good time either way."

"Let's, um, maybe simple is good? For now?"

"Fine by me," said Tony, who maneuvered himself out from under Bruce. He swapped positions so that Bruce was lying flat on his back, and Tony started working his way down Bruce's body, expertly kissing and teasing Bruce in a way that was really anything but simple. Tony's lips were so soft but his goatee was scratchy; the varied texture kept Bruce squirming.

Then Tony stopped and asked, "Hey, you good?"

Bruce was breathing heavily, but not from the pneumonia. "Uh-huh, so good, Tony, so good…"

"Mm. That's what I like to hear," Tony said. He again busied his mouth, while Bruce shivered and clutched the sheets. Tony's mouth felt so good; Bruce had been touch-starved for so long that he thought his brain might short-circuit. It was nice to remember that his body could feel pleasure, not just feverish and achy.

After an embarrassingly short time, Bruce gasped out a warning. "Tony, I'm gonna come…" 

In response, Tony made a pleased sound and did something with his tongue that brought Bruce crashing over the edge. "God, fuck, _Tony_..."

Tony licked his lips and returned to the top of the bed, where he gave Bruce a burning kiss. Bruce squirmed at the realization that he was tasting himself on Tony's lips. He was still feeling too turned on to be embarrassed, and after a couple of kisses that really tested his recovered lung capacity, Bruce pulled away and said, "Okay, my turn."

"You sure? You don't have to, if you're not feeling—"

"—I want to," Bruce assured him. "I just, um, I'm a little...out of practice...so I don't...sorry if it's not...good for you."

Tony let out an easy laugh. "Anything with you is gonna be good for me, okay, Jolly Green?"

Bruce snorted, and then he made his way down to Tony's cock. Bruce didn't have a lot to compare it with, but it seemed like a good size, and it was certainly ready for Bruce. Bruce hesitantly licked at it before starting to take it into his mouth. Tony responded immediately with a steady stream of praise, punctuated by moans. Bruce reveled in the idea that he was giving Tony pleasure, but the physicality of sex was starting to catch up with Bruce's slowly-recovering lungs. Bruce tried to push past it and keep going, but Tony went quiet for a moment, then said, "Hey, stop."

Bruce pulled away and said, "Sorry."

"For—no, Bruce, it was great, it's just...sounds like you're having trouble breathing."

"I'm f—well, a little."

Tony laughed. "Look, baby, I don't want you to _literally_ choke on my dick. C'mere."

"But—"

"Bruce, come up here," Tony said firmly. Bruce brought his head back up to the top of the bed and lay next to Tony, embarrassed. But Tony kissed him and then pulled Bruce on top of Tony. Tony reached one hand down between their bodies and started getting himself off. Bruce watched Tony's face for a moment, enjoying seeing him so openly aroused, feeling the rocking of his hips beneath him. Then Bruce leaned back down and kissed Tony. He let his mouth wander down to Tony's earlobe. Tony gasped and said, " _Fuck_ , Bruce," and Bruce filed that information away for the future. With a moan, Tony came, hot against Bruce's stomach. Bruce gave Tony a few more lazy kisses before leaning away to grab a handful of tissues from the bedside table. They quickly cleaned themselves off and then Bruce curled up with his head on Tony's chest.

Tony leaned forward to kiss Bruce's forehead. "So good, Bruce," he murmured. "You okay?"

"Mmm," Bruce said. He let his eyes flutter closed. He felt like he _should_ feel embarrassed, but he didn't. He felt content, if sleepy.

Tony laughed. "You can go back to sleep if you want. JARVIS will make sure we get up in time for your appointment."

"Just...a few minutes," Bruce mumbled.

"Take your time." Tony sounded pleased and amused, and Bruce decided to just let go and fall back to sleep. His mind was much quieter now than it had been when he'd tried to meditate earlier.

Bruce gradually became aware that someone was calling his name. As he returned to the waking world, he realized it was Tony, of course. Bruce rolled off of Tony's chest. He propped himself up on his elbow and felt a smile grow on his face as he looked at Tony, who was still nude and disheveled.

Tony smiled back. "Hey, Jolly Green, sorry to wake you. But I figured you'd want to shower before your doctor's appointment."

"Mm. Yeah. The doctor would probably appreciate that, anyway."

"So considerate. I, uh, would normally invite myself to join you in the shower, but I'm afraid that might make us late, so I'm going to go shower in my room. I'll meet you in the kitchen for breakfast before we head out?"

"Sounds good."

Tony leaned in to give Bruce one last kiss before sighing and leaving Bruce's room. Bruce kept smiling to himself as he showered and put on fresh clothes. They were Tony's, jeans and a T-shirt from the stash of things Tony had stocked Bruce's dresser with. Today at least Bruce could get the rest of his stuff from campus. He'd thought about asking Tony to get his car—and with it, the rest of his worldly possessions—for him earlier, but ultimately had still felt awkward about letting Tony really see where Bruce had been sleeping. Besides, he kind of liked wearing Tony's clothes. He remembered feeling judgy towards Tony for wearing jeans and T-shirts to class, but Tony's collection of vintage T-shirts were all so soft that he could understand why Tony wore them. (Besides which Bruce had to admit, they looked great on Tony.)

Bruce slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and began his journey downstairs. Even at his slow pace, he made it to the kitchen before Tony. He started a pot of coffee and investigated Tony's kitchen. There really wasn't a lot of food; they'd demolished the last of the Thanksgiving leftovers on Sunday. Bruce had finally finished his 10-day course of antibiotics and his appetite had returned. The freezer was still stocked with popsicles, but Bruce had had his fill of those for a while. He found that there was still flour and some other staples left from Tony's pie experiment, so he checked the time and decided he could make a batch of pumpkin pancakes.

Tony came down while Bruce was standing at the stove and reacted like he'd seen a child playing with matches. "Bruce, what are you _doing_?"

"Making breakfast?"

"Sit down, Bruce, Jesus." Tony stood next to Bruce. Unlike Bruce, he'd taken the time to dry his hair, and he'd put a blazer on over his AC/DC T-shirt. He looked very handsome, even with the look of annoyance on his face.

"It's just pancakes. They're quick!" Bruce said, but he let Tony steer him back over to a stool. 

"You're supposed to be resting," Tony scolded. 

Smoke started rising from the pan, and Bruce said, "Okay, well, then you should flip those, if you're taking over."

Tony picked up the spatula and hesitantly started scraping at the pancakes. "Shit," he mumbled.

Bruce laughed and talked him through it, and eventually they had a plate of slightly-mangled but perfectly edible pancakes.

"These taste better than they look," Tony said.

"More than meets the eye," Bruce replied with a smile.

They finished eating and went out to the garage. Tony seemed nervous as he drove.

"Hey, uh, how are you feeling?" Bruce asked.

"Fine, fine."

"One to five?"

"Maybe, uh, a three," Tony admitted. "I just...I don't love...hospitals."

"Who does? That would actually be weird. To love hospitals."

"I don't know! Candy stripers? Are they still a thing?"

Bruce bit back a smile at Tony's slightly manic tone. "Well, anyway, you can just drop me off. You don't have to go in with me. I...you've already done more than enough."

"No, I want to go with you. I just...how are _you_ feeling?"

"A...four? I really am feeling better. Well enough to handle a doctor's visit on my own."

Tony turned into the hospital complex. "Bruce, I...I think you were just too out of it the last time we were here to realize how scary it was. You were so—I'm going with you. I'm going to drop you off so you don't have to walk through the parking lot, but _wait here_. Okay?"

"Okay, Tony, thanks," Bruce said guiltily. It was true—he had been pretty out of it on their last trip here. His memories of it were hazy, but he remembered that Tony had stuck by his side through all of it. "Wait," he said, and he leaned in to kiss Tony before getting out of the car.

"If you were trying to convince me to leave you alone, that's a weird strategy."

Bruce smiled and shook his head. "Just...thanks." He got out of the car and obediently sat on a bench until Tony came strolling up, looking like a model in his sunglasses. He looked at his phone and said, "So you actually have two follow-up appointments. Very needy of you. The 9:00 one is a follow-up with a pulmonologist and then at 9:45 you get the stitches out of your hand."

"Right."

The follow-up appointments were in a building adjacent to the hospital, but separate from the chaos of the emergency room. They calmly made their way to the elevator and to Dr. Ko's office, where they sat on plastic chairs and looked at old magazines for a few minutes. Bruce smiled when he pulled out an old issue of GQ with Tony on the cover.

"Do you think they'd mind if we kept this?" Bruce asked.

"Bruce! Can you imagine what kind of germs are on that thing? I obviously have a copy at home if you want to look at more pictures of me."

"Hm. Tempting, but you know, the photos don't really capture your whole, uh, essence. I might just have to keep looking at your face."

Tony smiled. "Well, I happen to have some availability, if that's what you want."

Bruce smiled back. "Yeah, I'll come to your office hours."

The receptionist called Bruce back, and Tony trailed behind like a nervous puppy. Bruce had his vitals taken and his lungs listened to, and he promised that he had completed his full course of antibiotics.

Dr. Ko smiled. "Good, good. I'm seeing a lot of improvement. Much less fluid in your lungs, the infection seems to have cleared up. I'd recommend you keep taking the Mucinex for another week or so, just until you can really feel that everything's gone. But you can keep getting that over the counter."

"Okay, thanks," Bruce said.

"Any questions?"

Bruce shook his head, but Tony said, "Wait, wait, should he be going back to work yet?"

"Well, Dr. Banner, if you feel up to returning to work, I don't think that would be a problem."

"But he gets so _tired_ ," Tony said.

"Yes, it could take weeks until you get back to full strength. Dr. Banner, I think the most important thing is to just listen to your body. Take frequent breaks, don't overexert yourself. But you're a college professor, right?" He nodded. She said, "That's a relatively low-impact job. You'll want to get plenty of sleep, of course, but I think you could return to the classroom, as long as your classes aren't too active. And make sure to stay hydrated."

"I will, thank you," Bruce said. He shook hands with Dr. Ko, thankful that his right hand had healed enough to prevent awkwardness there. Then he checked out with the receptionist, while Tony sulked.

As they slowly walked to Bruce's next appointment, Tony muttered about wanting to check the doctor's credentials. 

"Tony, I've had over a week off work. I'm okay."

"I just—I was off work for longer than that after I got back from Afghanistan, and I was in better shape than you are."

Bruce bit his lip. "Can we talk about this later?" He really suspected that Tony's biggest damage from the attack he'd survived was psychological, and he didn't think the antiseptic hallway of this medical building was the best place to talk about that.

"Okay, fine." 

Bruce checked in at the next office and settled in to wait next to Tony. Tony was visibly nervous, fidgety and pale. "Tony, are you okay?"

"Of course."

"...one to five?"

"I, uh. Three."

"Are you sure?"

"Two and a half?" Tony admitted.

"Why don't you go get some fresh air? I really don't think you need to be here for this."

But Tony stubbornly shook his head, and when Bruce's name was called, Tony followed Bruce back to the exam room. A nurse-practitioner frowned at Bruce's hand. "What happened? It looks like a couple of the stitches popped."

"Oh." Bruce had dug his fingernails into his palms in the middle of a panic attack induced by trying to talk about his childhood trauma. "Um, just bent my hand weird, I think. I didn't think it was a big deal since it was already healing."

"Hmm. Well, I don't see any signs of infection. It just might leave a bit more of a scar. If you'd come in earlier we could have patched that back up but it's healing pretty nicely. Ready to have these removed?"

Bruce nodded. Tony said, "Excuse me."

He fled the exam room. Bruce said, "He's kind of squeamish. I told him he didn't have to come…"

"Well, this won't take too long," she said. "By the way, uh, I shouldn't ask, but...is that Tony Stark?"

"You're right, you shouldn't ask," Bruce said. He didn't want to be the reason for any stories circulating about Tony. But he also hoped he hadn't offended the woman who was about to take scissors to his hand.

"Huh. Okay, well, let's get started. This shouldn't hurt but it might feel a little weird." She carefully snipped and pulled his stitches out. Bruce looked down at his hand. "There you go!" she said cheerfully. She cleaned his hand once again with an antiseptic wipe and said, "If you put vitamin E oil on that, it should reduce scarring."

Bruce flexed his hand. "Thanks." He took the pamphlet she offered him and checked out at reception, furtively glancing around for Tony. When Bruce didn't see Tony in the waiting room, he went back out into the hallway. Still no sign of Tony. 

He picked up his phone and called Tony. Tony didn't answer. Bruce searched the hallways and texted Tony, _Where are you?_

After a scary moment, a few texts came in.

Tony: _Outside_  
Tony: _2_

Bruce blinked before understanding that "2" was a rating of Tony's condition rather than a location. _On my way_ , he replied, hoping that Tony would be somewhere easy to find. He backtracked through the hospital as fast as he could, putting his healing lungs to the test. 

Fortunately, he found Tony sitting on the same bench where Bruce had waited earlier that morning.

Unfortunately, Tony was having an obvious panic attack.

Bruce settled next to him. "Hey, hey," he said, then coughed and fought to get his breath.

Tony let out a small moan.

Bruce said, "Let's...breathe." He tried to model deep breaths for Tony, but his body wouldn't quite cooperate. He reached over and squeezed Tony's hand. Tony squeezed back, and for several minutes, they both just sat there, trying to breathe. 

Eventually, Tony shook his head and said, "Sorry."

Bruce frowned. "Okay, I get why you don't like it when I apologize for…certain things."

Tony let out a jerky laugh. "I just wanted to be there for you, but—the smell, and the...memories…"

"Hey. It's okay. You're safe." Bruce pulled a water bottle out of his messenger bag. "Want some water?"

Tony nodded and took a few sips. He was starting to get color back in his face. "Uh. How'd your appointment go?"

Bruce smiled and held up his right hand. "Good. High five?"

Tony smiled and gently high fived him. "Hey, wait, what time is it? Don't you have class?"

Bruce leaned against Tony's shoulder. "You're so cute when you're punctual. Yeah, we should get going in a few minutes. If you're okay?"

Tony leaned his head back against Bruce's. "Yeah. I'll be okay."

Bruce noted the change in verb tense and squeezed Tony's hand.

Tony continued, "It's just stupid. I didn't even—it wasn't—I _should_ be fine."

"It's okay not to be okay."

"Hmm. Good advice," Tony said wryly.

"Don't tell my therapist I'm giving it away for free." Bruce bit his lip. He didn't want to offend Tony, but neither did he want Tony to keep suffering unnecessarily. "Which...have you given any more thought to that? I mean, I...I know you wouldn't know it to look at me, but, um, it has actually been really helpful for me. Therapy. I mean. If you can believe it, I, uh, used to be...worse. I'm not an expert but it seems like you might have PTSD? From...what happened?"

Tony kissed his cheek. "Yeah. You're probably right. I...I'll look into it. But first, let's get you to Physics 101. Wait here, I'll pick you up."

Bruce shook his head. "I'll walk with you." He stood up and pulled Tony to his feet, walking hand in hand with him to the car. He began to regret his chivalrous gesture when he realized how big the parking lot was, but he was glad to be there for Tony. When they made it to Tony's car, Bruce tried to hide how eager he was to sit down after that walk.

Tony eyed him for a moment. "One to five?"

Bruce sighed and said sheepishly, "Maybe a three...it was kind of a far walk."

"I'll drop you off at the science center," Tony said. "And...ooh, the polite thing for me to do would be to _not_ say 'I told you so,' but my manners have been called into question before."

Bruce smiled. "Fair enough. What about you? How are you doing?"

"Three...ish," Tony said. "It takes me awhile to...come down. From. When I get like that."

"From a panic attack?"

Tony pursed his lips. "I guess. Yeah."

"Well...I'm glad you're doing better."

"But you're doing worse."

"I just needed to rest for a minute. Which I'll do while we're sitting down. In the car. I'm already feeling better. Three point two five. Three point three three. I'm on the rise."

Tony pulled up in the small circle drive at the front entrance of the science center. "I think this door is the closest I can drive to your first class. Why don't you meet me in my office after your morning class? I'll get us lunch."

Bruce raised his eyebrows. "You're staying on campus?"

"Yeah, sure, I have some work to catch up on."

"Okay. Thanks, Tony. See you in a bit."

"Take care of yourself until then," Tony said, and then he leaned over for a kiss.

Bruce finally pulled away with a smile and stepped out of the car, only to nearly bump into a wide-eyed Amadeus Cho. Bruce tried to keep a neutral smile on his face. "Hey, Amadeus, how was your break?"

"Um...pretty good, but maybe not as good as yours, Professor Banner!"

Bruce scrubbed a hand over his face. "Um, Amadeus, could you maybe do me a favor and not mention this to anyone?" It wasn't that he minded anyone knowing he was queer, but he usually tried to keep his personal life private from students. Not to mention that Tony was supposed to be at Shield to rehabilitate his public image, and Bruce wasn't really sure where he'd fit in with that project.

Amadeus mimed zipping his lips. "No problem. I'm happy for you. And you sound like you got over your cold!"

"I'm much better, yes, thank you," Bruce replied, deciding not to get into all the details of his illness. "I'm ready to get back to class."

Amadeus walked with Bruce to class, matching his slow pace. With help from his brilliant TA, Bruce made it through his class without dying of either pneumonia or embarrassment. But he spent the whole time counting down until he could have lunch with Tony.


	16. Counseling Practicum

Tony sprawled out on the new couch in his office, testing out its nap potential. He felt pretty good about it. He'd had Pepper take care of it for him, and like usual, she'd done a flawless job. Until now, he hadn't done much work to decorate his office or make it comfortable. Tony spent as little time on campus as possible, much preferring to work from home. But he knew Bruce's basement office was too small to fit a couch, and he wanted Bruce to have a comfortable place to rest between classes.

It turned out that it was also nice for Tony to have a comfortable place to rest. He breathed in and out, still feeling a little shaken from that morning's panic attack. The stupidest things would set him off, and it seemed like he was getting worse with time. There hadn't even been any blood that morning; Tony had just been thinking about Bruce's stitches coming out, which had made him think about the stitches going in, which had made him think about the horrible injuries he'd seen in Afghanistan. Tony hadn't even been hurt that badly in Afghanistan, not compared to Rhodey, not compared to other soldiers who had been with them.

Bruce was probably right. Tony should find a therapist. Experimentally, he searched for "therapist" on his phone and was immediately overwhelmed. Maybe someone else could do this for him. Pepper? JARVIS? Bruce? Surely one of them could help. 

Tony closed out his search and opened his emails. There were...a lot of them. He scrolled through, trying to triage them, but he couldn't focus. His mind kept drifting back to earlier that morning, in bed with Bruce. It wasn't that Tony had been counting the minutes until Bruce was well enough to have sex, not exactly. His main concern had truly been wanting Bruce to feel better.

But, well, sure, Tony had wanted to have sex with Bruce since the first time he'd seen him. And it had been worth the wait. Tony had had a lot of sex over the years, and much of it had been objectively better than what he'd done with Bruce that morning—had lasted longer, had had more interesting positions, had had more participants—but there was something about Bruce's shy eagerness that had just undone Tony. (And, okay, Tony knew that size wasn't everything, but the fact that Bruce was seriously packing didn't hurt anything. Or, it might hurt a little. In a good way.)

Tony shook his head, willing blood to get out of his dick and back to his brain. He checked the time and decided he should leave now to pick up food. He could be productive after lunch. He locked up his office and walked out to the corner where the Con Carne taco truck usually sat. But something else was parked there: Wrap it Up Shawarma and Stuff. 

Tony stopped short on the sidewalk and stared at it. _What the fuck was shawarma_? He googled it, decided it sounded edible, then googled this specific food truck to make sure they had a vegetarian option. Confident in his new knowledge, he approached the truck and ordered a chicken shawarma plate and a falafel plate, as well as two Diet Cokes. They didn't have the delicious horchata iced coffee the taco truck offered, but caffeine was caffeine. Tony took his carefully balanced stack of takeout boxes and plastic bottles back to his office. He hadn't thought he was especially hungry, after their filling breakfast, but the takeout boxes were making his office smell amazing. He was starting to wonder if it would be too rude to start eating without Bruce when he heard a tentative knock at the door.

He assumed it was Bruce; there weren't too many people Tony knew who could manage to sound shy even when knocking. Still, he got up to open the door rather than just calling "come in."

Tony opened the door and smiled to see Bruce standing there, right on time. There was a part of Tony's deep lizard brain that responded positively and possessively to the sight of Bruce in Tony's clothes. _Mine_ , that part of his brain insisted. Another, more progressive part of Tony's brain responded to the way Bruce smiled when Tony opened the door; a shy, sweet, longing smile. _Mine_ , Tony's brain insisted. _He's smiling like that for_ me.

Bruce cleared his throat and Tony snapped back to the present. "Hey. Come in." He stepped aside and shut the door after Bruce came in. He gave Bruce a quick kiss in greeting, then asked, "How are you feeling? How was class?"

"Fine, good. How are you doing?"

"Yeah. Good. Better. Thanks. Do you want some lunch?"

"Was this couch always here?" Bruce asked.

"Huh? Oh, no, it's new. And, here, before I forget, I got you a spare key for my office. So, uh, if you ever want to come take a nap, or anything…" Tony fished the key out of his pocket and handed it over to Bruce, who looked stricken. "Uh. Bruce? Are you okay?"

Bruce shook his head and took the key. "Yeah. I just...thank you, Tony, you're so generous."

"Yeah, I'm pretty great," Tony agreed. "Anyway, I was going to get tacos, but the truck wasn't there. You don't think they went out of business, do you? I kind of thought the two of us would have kept them in the black alone."

Bruce laughed. "It's Monday."

"Yeah?"

Amused, Bruce said, "You really only come to campus on Tuesdays and Thursdays, huh?"

"Well, yeah," Tony said, a little defensively. "I only have classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Pepper declines all meetings that I don't absolutely have to attend." 

Tony admired what a dedicated professor Bruce was, and he really tried to do right by his students, but Tony knew he was not cut out for academic life long-term. He wished he could just let his students mess around in a workshop for a semester and assign a grade to whatever they came up with by finals week—that was how Tony learned best—but the university seemed to have other ideas. And Tony was still trying to follow Pepper's plan for rehabilitating his public image, so he didn't want to go totally rogue. But he also didn't want to spend any more time on campus than he absolutely had to.

Wryly, Bruce said, "Good work if you can get it, I guess. Well, the food trucks have a rotating schedule. I think Con Carne is over on the quad on Mondays and Wednesdays."

"Oh, that makes sense. Well, anyway, do you like falafel? There was a shawarma truck out by the science center today."

Bruce smiled. "I love falafel."

Tony felt the urge to instinctively respond, _I love_ you, but instead he said, "Oh, good," and handed Bruce his takeout box. _Love_? Did he love Bruce? He didn't think he'd ever been in love before, but he knew he felt differently about Bruce than he'd ever felt about anyone else. Was it weird to declare love over takeout the same day you had sex for the first time? How long had he and Bruce been together? They _were_ together, right?

"Tony?" Bruce asked. His tone suggested it wasn't the first time he'd tried to get his attention.

"Hmm, yeah?"

"What's on your mind?"

To keep himself from blurting out, "I think I love you," Tony said, "I, uh...how did you find your therapist?" He took a bite of shawarma. It tasted even better than it smelled.

Bruce beamed. "I just went on our insurance plan's website and got a list of approved providers, and then you can filter by their specialties. And you can make introductory appointments to see if it's a good fit. You don't have to stay with the first one you try. But, um, I'm really proud of you for looking into it. I know it can be a scary step."

Tony chewed another bite of shawarma. "How do you know if it's a good fit?"

"Um, I don't know. I guess it's a little bit like dating. You just get, uh, vibes."

"Vibes?" Tony was aware of the irony that Bruce had compared it to dating while Tony was in the middle of trying to figure out what "dating" actually meant, but he couldn't point that out to Bruce.

"One time I went to an introductory appointment and I saw that there was a big poster in the waiting room that said 'Everything happens for a reason' with like, flowers, and I knew that was not going to be a good place for me. But I just went through the appointment anyway because it was too late to cancel without getting charged for it, and...well, I was right." Bruce shrugged. "Another time it took me a few appointments to realize that I didn't feel comfortable talking to them. So...yeah, it's kind of a hassle to find someone. But it's worth it."

Tony nodded. "I just don't want to keep bothering you."

Bruce laughed at that, a loud, long laugh that began to verge on wheezing.

"Bruce?"

"Oh, god, sorry, Tony, I just—I guess I'm really just learning firsthand what it's been like for you to talk to me about stuff."

Tony understood, then, and laughed too. "Well, okay, _you_ never bother me, but c'mon, I abandoned you in the middle of your doctor's appointment to go freak out about something that happened a year ago? That wasn't a little bit annoying?"

"Tony, it didn't bother me, I was just _worried_ about you. I hope you'll find a professional who can help you with your panic attacks because they'll be better than me at helping you stop having them. Or to have them less often. Or to get a medicine that will make them shorter. I want that for you. But you're not a _bother_."

"Oh."

"Have other people made you feel like you were bothering them?" Bruce asked, concern evident on his earnest face. Now that Bruce had pointed it out Tony was aware that he'd been on the other end of a similar conversation recently. But his thing was different than Bruce's. Obviously.

Tony took a deep breath and replied, "I don't...I haven't let very many people see me like that. If I felt...if I felt it coming on and I was in public, I'd go hide in the bathroom or something. Or just leave. I have enough of a...reputation that usually people don't question it if I just leave in the middle of something."

Bruce nodded. "Well...then, I'm glad you could trust me. I know it's...lonely to keep secrets."

Tony bit his lip. He hadn't been exactly alone, not the way Bruce apparently had been. "I mean, I haven't been totally...Pepper's really helpful. But she's technically my employee, so sometimes I feel...and, uh, I mean, Rhodey's great," Tony added, not wanting Bruce to think badly of Pepper and Rhodey. "But I just feel so guilty talking to him about it because I know he was hurt worse than me."

"I don't think he would hold that against you," Bruce said. "I haven't known him very long but he seems like he cares about you."

"Yeah. It's just...well, I guess I don't need to tell _you_ that it's hard to ask for help."

Bruce laughed again. "I guess we're a pretty good pair."

"I guess we are," Tony agreed.

"We'd better hope we never end up stranded somewhere together. We might die before we called AAA."

"Oh, JARVIS would save us."

"Whew." Bruce smiled at Tony. Tony felt lighter for having gotten some of this off his chest, for feeling that Bruce understood him and liked him anyway.

"So, you're done for the day at three?" Tony asked. He knew Bruce's Tuesday/Thursday schedule well but the rest of the week was more mysterious to him.

"Mm, well, my lab session ends at three, but then I have office hours until five."

Tony frowned. He himself offered one single office hour a week, though he occasionally let students make other appointments. "Can't you cancel them?"

"Why?"

"So you can rest."

"Oh. I guess I'll see how I feel after lab, but...really I do feel okay, Tony. And my students really like having office hours. I'll just, um, see you at...home," Bruce said with a shy look. Then he furrowed his eyebrows. "Although actually, what's your address?"

" _Our_ address," Tony said. "I'll text it to you. And JARVIS has outdoor cameras, he'll recognize your face and let you in the garage. You can park in any open space. And the house doesn't have keys, it just has bioscan locks that JARVIS operates."

"Oh. Uh, wow. That's cool." Bruce twisted his hands together. "And he's really—you haven't had any problems with that?"

"No, none. JARVIS's facial recognition is way better than anything else on the market."

Bruce nodded and checked his phone. "I should get going. But thanks for lunch. And—and everything." He threw his trash away. Tony followed him to the door and went in for a kiss, which Bruce gave.

"You're welcome. Call me if you need anything. And don't push yourself too hard. Remember Newton's Third Law, every action has an equal and opposite reaction."

"That's not what that means," Bruce said, with a fond smile. "Do you want to come by my office hours too?"

"No, you can explain it to me in private. I love it when you talk dirty."

Bruce laughed and shook his head, and then he went off to class. Tony closed the door to his office and spun around in his chair. He wanted to stick around in case Bruce needed anything. Spending another four hours in his office seemed excessive, but maybe he could get some work done.

It was funny—for the last three months, Tony had only seen Bruce a few times a week, although they'd texted and played Tetris between in person encounters. But since bringing Bruce home, they'd been nearly inseparable for a week and a half. Tony could tell that Bruce thought he was overreacting, but Bruce hadn't seen himself at the peak of his illness, not the way Tony had. It was true that Bruce seemed much improved. And true, too, that teaching college wasn't necessarily the most physically demanding job. It wasn't like Bruce was off to a day in a coal mine. Still: Tony was worried about Bruce. He'd feel a lot better when Bruce was back at home, where he belonged.

Tony tried to get his mind off of Bruce and back on his work. But instead of anything related to his course-load, he embarked on another search for a therapist. He decided to follow Bruce's instructions and start with his insurance company's website, but he realized he didn't have his insurance card with him. He _had_ health insurance, didn't he? He texted Pepper to check. She didn't include an eyeroll emoji in her reply, but Tony could feel it anyway. Then she asked if he was okay. He stared at it for a moment, unsure how to respond. Finally, he texted back the truth: _Yeah, I'm okay. Thinking about setting up an appointment with a therapist._

 _Proud of you,_ she replied. _Let me know if I can help._

 _Thanks,_ he replied, and sighed. Now that he'd told Pepper, he really needed to follow through or he'd never hear the end of it. He glanced around to make sure he was alone in his office before filtering for providers who specialized in PTSD. Then he clicked through some different therapists' websites, despairing at the vague language, and ultimately picked the one whose website had the cleanest design. He texted the link to Pepper and asked her to make an appointment for him.

He wondered if Pepper had been as worried about Tony as Tony was about Bruce. He felt a twinge of guilt and added, _And buy yourself some flowers from me._

She sent him back a smiling emoticon, an appointment confirmation, and an intake survey where Tony would have to quantify his feelings on some scale more complicated than the 1-5 system he'd worked out with Bruce. He marked the form with a star in his inbox and decided to work on that later. He'd done enough to solve _his_ problems for now; he could take a break and try to solve Bruce's. 

Tony started searching for information about affordable housing. He read about the housing crisis in California, and he learned that Bruce was definitely far from being the only college professor who couldn't afford a place to live. He learned that Pepper was right and he should say "unhoused" instead of "homeless," since "unhoused" placed the onus on society for not providing the housing. He read that Bruce was not alone in having been semi-blacklisted for attempting to organize adjunct professors, but that things were changing at some schools, anyway.

He learned a lot, and wheels in his brain spun and spun. He started synthesizing this new information into plans for the future, and he kept working until his phone buzzed with a text. He did a double-take when he noticed the time.

Bruce: _Hey, are you okay?_

Tony: _Of course, what's up?_

Bruce: _I just got home and JARVIS said you weren't here._

Tony: _Oops, just got caught up at work. I'll be home soon!_

Bruce: _Take your time, just wanted to make sure you were okay._

Tony: _Definitely okay. On my way!_

Bruce: _Well, don't text and drive._

Tony laughed and pocketed his phone. He locked up his office and drove home, where he smiled to see Bruce's battered green Subaru in the garage next to Tony's vintage Porsche 911. As Tony walked through the garage, he peered into Bruce's car. Looking past the Shield University faculty parking pass affixed to the rear window, he saw that the back seats had been removed, and he noticed a neatly rolled-up sleeping bag in the open space.

Tony caught his breath and kept walking into the house. The important thing was that Bruce had a safe place to sleep now; no point in dwelling on the past.

"Honey, I'm home!" he called out.

"Welcome back, Master Stark," JARVIS said. "Dr. Banner is in the living room."

"Thanks, J."

Tony found Bruce flopped on the couch, his laptop on his chest. "Hey Green Bean, how are you feeling?

"Tired," Bruce admitted, twisting his head to look up at Tony. "But okay. How are you?"

"Pretty good. I, um, have an appointment to see a therapist on Wednesday."

Bruce shut his laptop and sat up. "Hey! That's great. I'm proud of you."

"Pepper actually made the appointment, I haven't done anything yet."

Bruce shook his head. "But deciding to go, it's a big step. C'mere." He patted the couch next to him.

Tony settled in next to him, and didn't complain when Bruce kissed him. When they broke apart, Tony said, "I also replied to _several_ emails."

"Oh?" Bruce said expectantly.

Tony pouted. "I thought maybe you'd give me a kiss for every item on my to-do list that I actually did."

Bruce laughed and gave Tony another indulgent kiss. 

"Mm, I feel like my productivity is going to go through the roof with this system," Tony said.

"We might need to do a cost-benefits analysis on the time loss, though," Bruce replied.

Tony scoffed. "Time _loss_?! What better use of time can you think of?"

They made some very enjoyable use of time, but eventually Tony asked, "Hey, are you hungry?" He knew Bruce had been getting his appetite back since he'd finished his antibiotics, and he still wasn't sure if Bruce would speak up when he was hungry.

"I could eat," Bruce said.

"What are you in the mood for?" Bruce shrugged. Tony said, "You have to pick."

"Uh...how about pizza?" Bruce said tentatively, as if anyone ever said no to pizza.

"Perfect. What kind do you like? Please don't say pineapple."

"Is pineapple a dealbreaker?"

Tony sighed. "I guess it's not a deal _breaker_ , not when you're bringing so many other attributes to the table."

Bruce smiled. "I don't particularly like pineapple on pizza, I was just checking. My favorite is mushroom. But I'm not picky."

"I can work with that. J, will you order a large mushroom from Pagliai's? Ooh, and garlic knots. And, oh, I don't know, I guess a side salad. Anything else, Bruce?" Bruce shook his head. Tony said, "Oh, and one of those big skillet cookies."

"Your order will be here in an estimated twenty-five minutes, sir," JARVIS reported.

"Thanks, J! Brucie-bear, want to watch a Bake Off while we wait?"

"That sounds nice," Bruce agreed. JARVIS pulled up the next episode and Bruce curled up against Tony. He wasn't asleep, but he was quiet. Tony kept up a running commentary on the episode. He hoped he wasn't annoying Bruce, but Bruce laughed at his jokes. Tony decided that Bruce was probably just tired. And sure enough, after they ate dinner, Bruce stretched and said, "I think I'm going to head up to bed."

"Good," Tony said. "But, hey, I was thinking...if you want, we could switch to sleeping in my bedroom? Er, if you want to keep...sleeping with me? You can keep that room for, you know, your things, or if you want some space, or whatever but, well, my bed is nicer. And my room has a better ocean view."

Bruce blinked. "Oh! Uh, sorry for keeping you out of your room."

" _Bruce_ , that was so not my point. It's just an option...going forward. Whenever."

Bruce looked into Tony's eyes. "I feel like this is all happening really fast."

"Okay, yes, totally understandable if you want to keep your own room," Tony said, trying to hide his disappointment. It was good that Bruce was speaking up for himself. It was okay that Bruce had only wanted Tony with him when he was sick. Or maybe he hadn't wanted him there even then? Tony had been a bit pushy about it, in retrospect, but he'd been afraid to leave Bruce alone when he was so sick, and...well. It had been nice for Tony to not be alone.

Bruce shook his head and said shyly, "No, I didn't mean—it doesn't—it doesn't feel...wrong. I guess I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page."

"Well, what page are you on?"

Bruce licked his lips. When he spoke again, his voice was still quiet but his tone had grown more urgent. "I've told you, Tony, the last time I really dated anyone was in grad school, and I just...I guess I don't really know what's normal, but I…I like you so much. And I spent the last three months trying to convince myself that it would be better if I...didn't like you. But I do. And I guess...you like me, too, so I guess...maybe there isn't a problem? Maybe it's okay if things are moving fast, if we both want them to move fast?" He looked at Tony with a hesitant, hopeful expression on his face.

Tony smiled. "I think that sounds more than okay to me."

"So, if you still want to share a bed with me, then, sure, it might as well be an even nicer bed. Though I have to say, that guest room bed is really nice."

"It's not a guest room anymore, it's your room," Tony corrected. "You signed a lease."

Bruce leaned in and kissed him. "Okay. Show me to your room, then." He stood up from the couch and picked up a large, well-worn suitcase that Tony hadn't noticed before.

"Hey, where'd you get that?"

"Oh, uh, it was in my car."

"Do you have anything else you want to bring in?" Bruce shook his head. "Well...if that's all the stuff you have, there's probably room for it in my closet." Tony was a little embarrassed at how big his walk-in closet was, not to mention how full it was. But hey, Tony had a lot of occasions where he needed to look good.

"Oh. No, thanks, I'll keep it in...in my room," Bruce said, with only the slightest hesitation.

"And...you can keep wearing whatever stuff of mine you want," Tony said. "It looks good on you."

"Thanks."

Tony said, "I'll carry it upstairs for you," and Bruce handed over the suitcase without argument. He must really be tired. Tony couldn't believe that all of Bruce's stuff fit in it, even considering what he knew about Bruce's austere wardrobe. "You really don't have anything else?" 

"I keep some gym clothes and stuff at Val's studio, and some odds and ends in my office. But I sold and donated most of my stuff before I moved out here."

"You know, Pepper keeps reading books about having a minimalist lifestyle. Maybe she should talk to you. Or you could write a book!" 

Bruce laughed, and Tony tried to shove down his embarrassment as he led Bruce to Tony's less-than-minimalist bedroom at the end of the hallway. It wasn't particularly cluttered, but each item in it, including the pillows, was probably worth more than Bruce's car.

"Wow, that _is_ a nice view," Bruce commented mildly. "Here, I'll go put my stuff back in my room and get changed. I'm sure you're not ready for bed yet."

"Well, no, probably not for awhile. But I don't mind staying if you'd like some company?"

"I...I think I might like a little quiet time, actually. Just to decompress a little before I fall asleep at like, 7:30."

"Okay," Tony said, reassuring himself that this was a totally reasonable request and not a rejection.

Bruce tilted his head for a moment and then gently kissed Tony. "Hey, I'll be there whenever you come to bed, okay? I just know...I know it's not a healthy adult bedtime. I know you have projects you're working on. I promise I'll be fine, and I'll have JARVIS call you if I'm not."

"Right. Yeah. Good night, Bruce. Sleep tight."

"You too."

Tony gave Bruce another quick kiss. He went back downstairs and restlessly worked on his food replicator prototype for a while, before returning to his affordable housing proposals. He really wanted to talk to Bruce about that one, though, so he set it aside and replied to some student emails.

He finally went to bed around eleven—early for his old schedule, late compared to the schedule he'd adopted while being Bruce's full-time caretaker. When he went up to his room, Bruce was curled up on the far edge. He was breathing evenly but not snoring. Tony brushed his teeth, changed into a pair of black silk pants, and slid into bed beside Bruce. He realized he'd never shared this room with anyone, not for more than a few hours, anyway. But having Bruce there felt right, and Tony quickly fell into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking advantage of post-peak camping season to take a long weekend to disconnect, so no new chapter on Monday. I'll be back on Tuesday. Thanks for reading and have a great weekend! ♥


	17. Impact Evaluation

Bruce couldn't believe it, but somehow Tony's bed actually was even more comfortable than the one in the guest room—in Bruce's room. He was pretty much only using his own room as a shower and closet, but he could imagine using it as an office space too, sometime when he had gotten the energy back to do more work once he got home at the end of the day. Bruce's room in Tony's house was basically the size of his old apartment in Iowa, and obviously much larger than his car. 

Tony's house was incredible, nothing less than what he'd expect from a billionaire. He could tell that occasionally Tony felt self-conscious about it, about how much he had here while Bruce and others had so little. In theory, Bruce believed that all billionaires should be taxed out of existence. In practice, though...it was hard to hold anything against Tony, not when he was so kind and generous.

Bruce sat up in bed and watched Tony sleep for a minute. Bruce had already been asleep whenever Tony had come to bed. He was gathering that Tony was a bit of a night owl by nature. Bruce used to be a night owl too, but sleeping in his car had forced him awake at sunrise, and then his illness had demanded so many hours of rest. He checked the time; he was awake well before his alarm. He quietly crept out of bed and went down the hall to shower and dress. He was glad to have his own meager wardrobe back, although Tony had definitely supplemented it, even beyond the new underwear he'd gotten for Bruce at the beginning of his stay. Like everything else he'd encountered with Tony, it was the nicest underwear Bruce had ever worn.

Down in the kitchen, Bruce took stock of what food and equipment Tony had. Since Thanksgiving, he had measuring cups at least, but was missing some other basic implements. There was a beautiful knife block that looked like it had never been used, and some sleek appliances that Bruce didn't even recognize. But there were still no potholders, no whisk, no vegetable peeler. He made a mental list; maybe he could stop by Target and pick up a few things, as a way of giving back to Tony. Then he laughed a little to himself at the thought of Tony having anything from _Target_ in his house. All of his kitchen goods must be from...from...well, Bruce didn't even know where rich people shopped.

He tried and failed to imagine Tony even stepping foot inside a Target. Bruce tried to quell his class-based insecurities. Tony wasn't really a snob, exactly. He was just extremely rich. With that mildly reassuring thought in mind, he asked for JARVIS's help in finding a basic scone recipe that Bruce could make with the ingredients on hand in Tony's kitchen. JARVIS played an episode of RadioLab for Bruce while he baked.

JARVIS said, "Excuse me, Dr. Banner, I thought you might wish to know that Ms. Potts has just parked in the garage."

"Oh. Um, thanks," Bruce said. If Pepper had parked in the garage, she'd cross through the kitchen to get almost anywhere in the house. He said, "Does she know Tony's still asleep? Er, is Tony still asleep?"

"Ms. Potts frequently enters the house on errands for Master Stark that do not require his participation. She has full authorization to enter all common areas of the house."

"Right." Bruce thought about going back upstairs, but the stairs were still physically daunting, and he'd need to take his scones out of the oven soon. And anyway, he wasn't afraid of Pepper. He just...would strongly prefer to have Tony by his side if she was going to be there. But then, he'd faced worse things than Pepper.

He'd just finished giving himself that half-hearted pep talk when he heard Pepper's heels clicking on the tile floor. He turned to smile at her and saw that her arms were full. "Oh! Pepper, let me help you," he said. "JARVIS, please pause the podcast."

She laughed. "Glad to see you've gotten off your deathbed. But I've got this." She set the bags on the counter and started putting things away. "No, sit, I know you're still sick."

He settled back onto his stool and said, "I guess I don't really know where things go anyway." She started unpacking bagels and fruit and put some things in the fridge.

"I knew Tony was running kind of low on food. Are you hungry? Help yourself."

"Do you always shop for Tony?"

"Sometimes. It's part of my job. A lot of it is just delivered from third parties."

"Oh. Right. But so, you don't think Tony would mind if I, uh, stopped at Target and picked up a few things for the kitchen?"

"What else do you need for the kitchen? Just let me know and I'll take care of it. Here, take my card."

Bruce took her business card. He didn't think he'd ever ask Pepper for anything, but he figured it might be a good idea to get her number, just in case. "N-no, I...would like to. I guess, I just don't know...I mean, I guess I'm worried that if I picked stuff out myself, it wouldn't be...up to Tony's standards?"

Pepper smiled warmly at him. "Oh, Bruce, please don't worry about anything like that. I know Tony's a lot, but—"

Bruce flinched as he remembered Tony sadly describing himself that way. He blurted out, "No, he's not."

Pepper tilted her head. "I suppose what I mean is that I understand that Tony's...lifestyle...can seem intimidating. But Tony's not shallow. Or, well, he is a little bit, to be honest, but not about things like this. I guarantee you that he has no brand loyalties for any kind of kitchen equipment. Hair products, on the other hand..." she trailed off with a smile.

Bruce nodded. "It does seem like he spends more time at the bathroom mirror than in the kitchen."

JARVIS said, "Dr. Banner, you may wish to remove the scones from the oven momentarily."

"Thanks, JARVIS." Bruce grabbed a dish towel and pulled the scones out of the oven. They didn't look nearly as good as the ones on the Great British Bake Off; they were lumpy and misshapen, and there wasn't any powdered sugar to make a glaze. 

"Bruce, you made scones? Tony didn't tell me you were making scones."

"It was kind of impromptu. I'm not sure how well they turned out."

"They look good to me. I wouldn't have gotten bagels if I would have known. Could I have one?"

"Oh, yes, of course." Bruce put a few scones on a plate and brought them over to the counter.

Pepper went to a cabinet and came back with a fancy shrink-wrapped assortment of tiny jam jars. "I think this came in some gift basket last Christmas. It'll still be good, right?" She twisted open a jar of organic marionberry jam with a _pop_ and sniffed it.

"Should be, if it hadn't been opened before."

She spread some on her scone and took a bite. "Oh, wow, this is so good."

Bruce prepared his own scone and took a cautious bite. It really had turned out pretty well, for his first attempt. They wouldn't win any prizes for presentation, but they tasted good, especially with the jam.

"Anyway, what kinds of things did you need for the kitchen?"

"Oh, not much, just, uh, like potholders and some odds and ends like that."

"So you want to actually use the kitchen for cooking instead of a staging area for takeout boxes?"

"I mean, just, it would be nice to have the option sometimes. If that's okay?"

"Bruce, of course it's okay. It's...lovely. And really, I know how it feels, getting dumped into the world of Tony Stark, but Tony's not...it's not that he doesn't do his own shopping because he thinks he's too good for it. It's partly that his time really is so valuable, it's generally not worthwhile for him to run those kinds of errands. And then there's the fact that when he goes out to places like Target, it...can cause a bit of a stir. He used to be a little more open to that kind of thing, but over the last year he's gotten so anxious. So...thank you, by the way, for convincing him to try therapy."

"Oh, sure, I, uh, hope it helps him. He's helped me so much, I don't know how I can ever repay him." _Tony's time was valuable, yet he'd wasted hours and hours watching Bruce sleep_.

"Hey. I know that Tony has helped you out over the last few weeks, but you've helped him, too. You don't have anything to repay. You know that, right?"

"I...okay. I hope this appointment helps him. But I know it can be tough, especially the first day...that was kind of why, um, I wanted to bake something. Just so he can start the day with something nice, maybe, even if what comes after isn't so nice."

"That's very thoughtful, Bruce. I'm sure he'll appreciate that."

Bruce could feel his cheeks grow hot, so he looked down and busied himself with taking another bite of scone. He tensed as he heard footprints behind him.

"Hey, are you guys having a party without me?"

Of course, it was Tony. Bruce relaxed. He turned and smiled at Tony, who settled into the stool next to Bruce. "Good morning."

"Morning, Green Bean. Morning, Pepper. Hey, you two could be a stir-fry or something. I just need to make friends with an Onion." Pepper rolled her eyes. Tony looked around the kitchen and lit up. "Hey, did you get scones? Did I tell you I've been craving one since we started watching Bake Off? I don't remember telling you that, but I have always suspected you could read minds."

"I can't read minds, I just pay attention. But I didn't buy them, Bruce made them. They're really good."

"My Star Baker!" Tony said. He sounded proud, and Bruce felt his blush deepen. Tony leaned in to kiss his cheek and whispered, "You are so cute when you blush."

Across the table, Pepper smiled. Bruce squirmed. Tony picked up a different tiny jar—orange marmalade—and spread it on his own scone. "Bruce, seriously, you should be on the Bake Off."

"Well, I—it's not that good—"

"—yes it is—"

"—and I'm not British?"

"Hm. Well, that one is fair. I guess I'll just have to keep you to myself."

Bruce ducked his head and checked the time. "Actually, I'm afraid you'll have to share me with my Physics 101 class. I need to get going."

Tony let out a dramatic sigh. "But I just got here."

Pepper said, "Well, Tony, if you went to bed at a reasonable hour, maybe you could have enjoyed a leisurely breakfast like Bruce and I did."

"I did go to bed at a reasonable hour."

"Then why did I get a text from you at 4:30am asking me to order more plastic filament?"

"Because I need more plastic filament," Tony said. "Obviously." He took another bite of scone and said, "I'll walk you to your car, Green Bean."

Bruce smiled and shook his head at Pepper, who smiled back, like they shared a secret. He supposed maybe they did, that Tony was secretly a much sweeter person than his public image suggested. Bruce cleared his dishes and put them in the dishwasher, then looked for some plastic wrap or containers to put the rest of the scones.

"What are you looking for?" Tony asked.

"I was going to put away the rest of the scones, so they don't get stale."

Pepper said, "I'll take care of it. Go to class."

"Thanks, Pepper," Bruce said, with an awkward wave. He scooped up his messenger bag and started walking. Tony sidled up next to him and slung his arm around Bruce's shoulders, accompanying him as they walked through Tony's workshop into the garage.

Tony said, "Sorry I was up so late..I just get caught up in my work."

"You don't need to apologize. I know I'm still going to bed really early."

"Maybe we'll meet up in the middle someday and both go to bed at midnight."

"I'd like that." Bruce stopped outside his car. He licked his lips and said, "Hey, Tony, uh, I hope your appointment goes well today, but I know...I know it'll probably be hard. And I just…" he trailed off and opened his arms, silently offering Tony a hug.

Tony smiled and hugged him back. "Thanks, Brucie-bear, but don't worry about me. I'm _very_ good at talking about myself."

Bruce laughed and leaned in to kiss Tony. Tony kissed him back, harder, until Bruce was pushed up against his car. He broke away, panting. "You're very good at that, too, but...I gotta go."

"Tease," Tony said, fluttering his eyelashes in a way that made Bruce think about skipping class. But he was a professor, not a student, and he brushed aside Tony to open the front door. 

"I'll be home before five," Bruce promised. He usually taught a meditation class on Wednesday nights, but he'd told Val he was still too sick to come back in. He missed the studio, but he was glad that he'd be able to be there for Tony earlier tonight.

Tony gave him a million kilowatt smile. "Yes. Come home."

Bruce swallowed down his feelings of being overwhelmed and allowed himself a moment to just enjoy how incredible it felt to be on the receiving end of that smile. He waved and drove off to campus, where he had a perfectly fine class followed by a perfectly fine cup of noodles at his desk. He texted Tony to check in at lunch and tried not to worry about the lack of response. He knew that Tony's appointment was scheduled for 1PM, so he was probably driving or filling out paperwork or something. He sent another text to say, _Thinking of you, hope it goes well!_ and put his phone away for his afternoon class.

After class, he still saw no reply from Tony and started to feel a vague sense of foreboding. He was supposed to have one hour of office hours from 3-4PM, but instead he put up an apologetic sign on his door and promised to be available to answer questions by email later that night. Then he hurried back to Tony's house—back home. He pulled into the garage and his ears were immediately assaulted by hard rock music, which only grew louder as he left the garage area and moved further into Tony's workshop area.

By the time he found Tony, the music was so loud that Bruce could barely hear himself think. Tony was wearing a welding mask and, well, welding something. There was a half-empty bottle of bourbon sitting on his work table. Bruce hesitantly got closer. He didn't want to interrupt Tony while he was holding the welder's torch; that seemed dangerous. The music was starting to give Bruce a headache; he couldn't imagine how Tony could possibly get any work done like this. But working he was.

Bruce watched him silently for a few minutes, then ducked inside the house. He sighed with relief at the quiet of the kitchen. Tentatively, he asked, "Hey, JARVIS? Uh...how's Tony doing?'

After a pause, JARVIS replied, "Master Stark has consumed a large quantity of bourbon over a short period of time."

"Is this...usual for him?"

"It is not especially out of the ordinary given his overall patterns of behavior. However, it has been several weeks since I last observed him drinking so heavily so early in the day."

"Has he eaten anything?"

"Unless he ate something outside the house and purchased it with cash, his last food intake was a scone at 10:25AM."

"Okay. Right. So...maybe I should bring him some food and water?"

"I believe that would be advisable. Would you like me to turn down the music in the workshop?"

"Oh. Yes, please." Bruce quickly refilled his own metal water bottle at the sink, then pulled a bottle out of the fridge for Tony. He surveyed the food options and decided to grab the leftover pizza from Monday rather than make something new. He slipped back out to the workshop, where the music had been reduced to a less painful volume, but Tony was still in his own world. Bruce carefully set the pizza and water on his work bench. Tony didn't look over, and Bruce took the bottle of bourbon and placed it out of reach, on another counter. Then Bruce settled on the workshop's big brown leather couch, where he pulled his laptop out of his bag and waited for Tony to come up for air.

Bruce managed to get lost in his own work until he felt a weight settle on the couch next to him. He turned and offered Tony a tentative smile. "Hey, Tony."

"Bruuucie," Tony said. His voice was warm and friendly, but his breath smelled like bourbon and it sent Bruce's nervous system into overdrive. "Did you turn my booze into water? You're like...a reverse Jesus. An anti-Jesus. _The anti-Christ!_ That's a thing!" He laughed.

"Just, um, hydration is important," Bruce said weakly.

Tony smiled. "You're sweet, Bruce. I missed you. Give me a kiss." He leaned in and Bruce wanted to kiss him, but he flinched, and Tony's eyes looked hurt.

Bruce crossed his arms over his chest and felt terrible. How could he react that way to Tony, who'd been so patient and caring toward him? He said, "I'm sorry, Tony, it's just—"

"—I get it, I'm a wreck," Tony said dejectedly. "Just a poor little rich boy who needs to get over his stupid problems already."

"What? No, Tony, that's not…" Bruce trailed off as Tony stood up from the couch, only slightly unsteady on his feet, and went after his bourbon, which he'd already spotted. Bruce hadn't hidden it, just put it out of Tony's immediate reach. Bruce stood up and followed Tony. "I take it your appointment didn't go well?"

"No, Bruce, it didn't. I'm sorry I can't cure my problems through yoga like you can." He took a sip of bourbon straight out of the bottle. "Go ahead and judge me. I don't blame you."

"Tony, listen, I—I'm not judging you, and I—I'm sorry. I just...I'm not feeling...the smell just...made me nervous."

Tony frowned and tipped his head toward his armpit, sniffing himself. "I took a shower today."

"No, no, the smell of, of the bourbon," Bruce mumbled. "Sorry, I know it's dumb."

Tony blinked. "JARVIS, turn the music down." The sudden silence was startling, and Tony said, "I didn't say _off._ " The music returned at a barely audible volume, and Tony rolled his eyes but didn't ask for more. He took another swallow of bourbon, then shook his head and set the bottle down. He went back for the water and pizza and settled back on the couch, then patted the seat next to him.

Bruce hesitantly sat down. "I don't mean to—you should have a drink, if you want, I just, JARVIS said you hadn't eaten, and I—"

"I forgot," Tony said softly. "I forgot you said your dad was an alcoholic, and I—I—god, I'm such a fuck-up."

"No! No, you're not, and really it's fine, it was just—strong—and—" Bruce let out a shaky breath. 

Tony took a bite of pizza and said, "Christ, this is good. I thought you were weird for getting mushrooms but I get it."

"We could have gotten half, if you didn't like mushrooms…"

Tony shrugged. "I wanted you to like me," he said frankly. "Anyway, it's good. Like I said."

"Okay," Bruce agreed. "Um, good. But, I—I already like you. I don't want you to feel like you can't eat the kind of pizza you like. Or, um, drink what you like."

"I might suggest a more moderate alcohol consumption than what Master Stark 'likes' would be advisable," JARVIS said. "For reasons of health and safety."

"No one asked you, J."

"I asked him, actually, earlier," Bruce admitted.

"This is a dangerous alliance," Tony said thoughtfully. 

"It isn't," Bruce protested. "We both just want you to be...safe. And happy."

Tony ate some more pizza. "Why?"

"What? Because we care about you, what do you mean, why?" Bruce sputtered.

"Why do I deserve to be happy?"

"Because everyone does," Bruce said automatically, though he knew it was advice he'd struggled with himself.

" _Everyone_? Even _Hitler_?"

"Well...he's dead already," Bruce said, twisting his hands together. "Anyway, you're not Hitler."

"But don't you think I need to _confront the fact that my family's wealth comes from the death of innocents?_ " Tony asked, his tone not quite mocking.

Bruce blinked. "Is that...is that what the therapist said to you today?"

Tony shrugged. "Something like that."

"Well, that's—that's really out of line. You should report them to the state board. _I'll_ report them to the state board!"

"But don't you think he had a point, though?" Tony asked.

"Not...not a productive point. Not when you've already stopped making weapons. Not when—god, what exactly did he say to you?" Bruce stood up from the couch and started pacing back and forth. "What's his name?"

Tony was watching Bruce closely, an odd expression on his face. "It doesn't matter," he said, finally.

"Tony, of course it matters. If a therapist is saying that kind of...of personal attack, to a patient, that's absolutely unacceptable and the state board should know about it. To keep them from saying things like that to other patients, if nothing else."

"It's not like there are a lot of other patients like me," Tony mused. "Probably war crimes are firmly off the table for most of the people who walk in that office door."

"Tony, you were the _victim_ of an attack. I'm so sorry that therapist didn't take your trauma seriously, but that doesn't mean it's not real. That doesn't mean _you_ shouldn't take it seriously."

Tony looked at him for a long moment. "You're cute. If I brush my teeth, can we make out?"

"I—Tony, are you sure that's what…" Bruce looked at Tony's pleading expression and said, "I...yes." He didn't seem to be making much progress with words, maybe he could kiss Tony and make him feel better.

Tony grinned and shoved the pizza crust into his mouth. "I will be _right back_ ," he said.

"JARVIS, can you tell me who Tony had an appointment with today?" Bruce asked.

"Unfortunately my security parameters do not allow me to share this information. However, I might suggest that you consult Ms. Potts if you have further questions regarding Master Stark's schedule."

"Ah. Okay, thanks." Tony sauntered back into the room and straddled Bruce's lap. "Tony, are you sure—?" he asked, and was cut off when Tony pressed a kiss to his lips. Tony's breath was minty-fresh, now, and his kiss was insistent. It felt nice to be wanted like this, and Bruce figured that if Tony was sober enough to operate a blow torch he was probably sober enough to consent to making out, anyway. Tony kissed Bruce urgently, like he wanted to taste him, like he wanted to merge with him, and for a while it was good, and then Tony reached a hand between their bodies, down into Bruce's faded khakis.

Bruce pulled away and gently placed his hand on Tony's wrist. "Tony, wait," he panted.

Now Tony flinched. "You don't want me?"

"Tony, of course I—" Bruce started, and Tony moved his hand again, making it, well, harder for Bruce to speak. He _did_ want Tony, but not like this. He caught his breath and said, " _Stop_."

Tony pouted but pulled his hand back.

Bruce reached out his arms and pulled Tony against him for a hug. "I just don't think right now is...the best time."

After a moment, Tony leaned against Bruce with a shuddery sigh. Bruce gently rubbed his back. "Hey," Bruce said softly. He was in over his head. He had no idea what to say after "hey." So he said, "Hey," again, and just kept rubbing Tony's back and waited to see what he might say.

For a while, Tony stayed still against Bruce's chest, his breath still betraying signs of distress, though he didn't quite seem to be having a panic attack. Finally, Tony said, "I'm good at fixing things, you know?"

"Yeah…"

"So it seems like it should be easier to fix me."

Bruce laughed and squeezed Tony more tightly. "You don't need to be fixed, Tony. You just need a little...assistance."

"A software patch?" Tony suggested, and he sounded more...like himself.

"Exactly. And I'm so sorry that today you spoke to someone who didn't...who made you feel so bad."

"I...I've been thinking about it, and I think...I'm not sure if they said anything like what I heard. I think I just…" Bruce rubbed Tony's back encouragingly, and Tony finished, "I don't know. It was maybe just in my head. Maybe just what I assumed they would say. Maybe what I thought I deserved to hear."

"Well, even so, it sounds like they were a bad fit for you," Bruce said gently. "Which I know is...frustrating. But I still think it would be worth it for you to try again with a different person."

"Yeah," Tony agreed softly. "But not tonight."

"Not tonight."

"You really—you really don't think…"

"Don't think what?"

"Don't think I'm being...stupid about all of this?"

"Oh, Tony, of course not," Bruce said. "You went through something very traumatic. And even if you hadn't...I mean, a lot of people benefit from getting professional help. And a lot of people struggle to find the right fit. It's something really...personal."

Tony hummed and nodded against Bruce. Then he said, "Hey, want to see what I've been working on?"

Bruce was starting to get whiplash from Tony's mood swings, but he could relate. "Of course."

Tony climbed off of Bruce's lap and offered him a hand to get up off the couch, then dragged him back over to his work station where he showed off the pieces of the prototype food replicator he'd begun fabricating. It was interesting, and impressive, and Bruce paid attention as long as he could. But he was exhausted from his illness, and from the emotional energy of worrying about Tony, and he could feel himself fading. He sat down on a stool and propped his head up on his elbows, trying his best to focus. 

Eventually, he felt Tony's hand on his shoulder. "Jolly Green, you should go to bed."

"Mm, no, I'm listening."

"Uh huh."

Bruce blinked vigorously, hoping to summon more energy to himself. 

Tony sighed. "Well, here, I guess you should eat some pizza first."

Bruce took a now-room temperature slice from the box and chewed it. He was almost too tired to be hungry, but he figured it was a reasonable request from Tony. Bruce finished eating and said, "So, how can I help?"

Tony laughed. "You can help by going to sleep."

"But...what are you going to do?"

"Well, I'll probably go to sleep...in a little while," Tony hedged.

"But are you...okay?"

"Yeah, totally." Bruce furrowed his eyebrows together. Tony sighed. "I mean…'okay' is an overstatement. But I'm not going to hurt myself. I'm just going to bury my problems in work!"

Bruce pursed his lips. "One to five?"

"A...a three?" Tony said, and Bruce thought he might be overstating his case.

"Maybe I'll just nap on the couch here," Bruce said. He didn't want to leave Tony alone, even if it was obvious that Bruce couldn't stay awake for much longer.

"Brucie-bear, c'mon, didn't we just go through a whole thing about how comfortable m—our bed is?"

"It's a very nice couch, though." Bruce stretched out on the couch, declining to mention that it was much more comfortable than the floor of his car. 

"Bruce…"

"Wake me up when you go to bed," Bruce said. "I'll be able to fall back to sleep. But I'll be here if you need me."

Tony's lips twisted into a grimace, but Bruce thought his eyes looked pleased anyway. He said, "JARVIS, turn down the music."

"It's okay, it's like white noise," Bruce reassured him. "Really, I can sleep through a lot."

Tony said, "Be right back." He reappeared with pillows, a blanket, and soft sweatpants. "If you're going to insist on this, you should at least be comfortable."

Bruce sat up and kissed Tony on the cheek. "Thanks, Tony." 

Tony smiled and shook his head. "No problem. Sleep tight, Green Bean." Tony got back to work—though he did keep the music at a lower level—while Bruce quickly changed. He took off his glasses and fell asleep in a cozy nest on the couch. At some point in the night he stirred and realized that Tony was curled up against him. "Tony?" he murmured, but Tony seemed to be out cold. Bruce closed his eyes and went back to sleep; it didn't really matter where they slept, as long as they were together.


	18. Applied Principles of Engineering

Tony stretched and did a few slow neck circles. The physical injuries he'd gotten over a year ago had basically healed, but he found that he was much more prone to waking up with pain in his joints, particularly when he slept anywhere other than his ergonomically perfect bed. At least he wasn't hungover.

He'd spent plenty of nights on the workshop couch in the past, but less-frequently since he'd returned from Afghanistan. And he'd never shared the couch with anyone. He probably shouldn't have slept on the couch last night, but he hadn't wanted to wake Bruce up, and he hadn't wanted to sleep alone. It really was so sweet of Bruce to want to keep him company, even when Bruce had obviously been exhausted. 

Tony pressed a kiss to Bruce's cheek and extricated himself from the little blanket nest they'd made on the couch. He started a pot of coffee and checked the time. It was a little after 8AM, so Bruce still had time to sleep before they needed to leave for the 11AM classes they each taught.

While he sipped his coffee, he mentally reviewed yesterday's events. He found that he felt less shame than he'd expected. He still felt like he'd probably overreacted and been too dramatic about what had happened at the therapist's office, but even in the harsh light of his mental replay, Bruce hadn't seemed judgmental. He'd been angry on Tony's behalf, which made Tony feel a little warm and fuzzy to remember. That feeling was followed immediately by guilt at drinking so much around Bruce. Well, Bruce hadn't been there at the time, but Tony should have realized that Bruce wouldn't react well upon coming home to a drunk, even if Tony was a friendlier drunk than Bruce's father had been.

Tony decided that he would try therapy again, for his sake as well as Bruce's. He did another search, found another therapist, and texted Pepper to ask her to book him an appointment ASAP; hopefully this one would have availability sometime before Tony could have a chance to get cold feet.

Tony took another look at Bruce; he didn't seem to be on the verge of waking, so Tony crept out to the kitchen. He grabbed some scones and jam and brought them back out to the workshop. He ate one and marveled at the fact that Bruce had _made_ them. He remembered something Bruce had said before, about putting care into making food for another person. It made him feel warm inside, though he hadn't heated up the scone before eating it. He wondered if he could hold it up to the blowtorch? But that seemed like it might start a fire, and that might wake Bruce up. He could try it another time.

Tony read some emails and even replied to a few, and eventually, Bruce began to stir. He yawned and sat up. He grabbed for his glasses and looked around until his eyes settled on Tony. His curls were a mess that Tony longed to bury his fingers into, and he said, "Hey. I told you to wake me up when you wanted to go to bed."

Tony shrugged. "You made the couch look so comfortable."

Bruce gave a little half-smile and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. He settled on a stool next to Tony and asked, "How are you feeling? One to five?"

"Better. Like a four, probably. I...Pepper's going to make me an appointment with a different therapist."

Bruce made a cute surprised face. "Really? Are...well, good, I'm really proud of you for trying again. I hope this one is a better fit. And I...let me know if you want to file a formal complaint against the guy you saw yesterday."

Tony shook his head. "No, I—I think that was mostly in my head. Or—or maybe he just didn't disagree when I said things, or…well, I think I should just move on."

"Okay. If you're sure." Bruce looked at him with concern, and it was so sweet that it made Tony want to kiss him, so he did. It made Bruce blush, which made him look even cuter.

Tony pulled back and said, "Here, eat a scone," because if he kept kissing Bruce, he was just going to want to _keep_ kissing Bruce, and they had places to be.

Looking dazed, Bruce said, "Okay." He started eating a scone and said, "I think next time I might try a berry scone. Or pumpkin." He chewed thoughtfully and added, "Hmm, maybe pumpkin cranberry?"

"If you bake it, I'll eat it. But you don't have to—"

"I'd like to."

"Okay. Well, I won't argue too much with something that gets me baked goods. Let me know if you need any other kitchen implements and JARVIS and I can whip those up for you. So to speak."

"Thanks, but I think I'm set. At least until I start trying to bake fancy stuff."

"Like a baked Alaska?" Tony asked, remembering one of the Great British Bake Off episodes they'd watched recently.

Bruce smiled. "Yeah, I wouldn't want it to end up in the bin." He finished his scone and excused himself to go upstairs and get ready for the day. Tony decided to tidy up his workspace a little bit before following suit.

After Bruce had left, JARVIS said, "Excuse me, sir, but I thought it might interest you to know that Dr. Banner's birthday is December 18th."

Tony blinked. That did sound familiar—he remembered seeing it on Bruce's hospital paperwork and thinking that he should put it in his calendar. He hadn't, but, well, that's what he had JARVIS and Pepper for. "Thanks, J." 

December 18th was two weeks away, and also in the middle of finals week. It was also two days after the anniversary of Tony's parents' deaths, and seven days before Christmas. Tony really hoped his next attempt at finding a therapist would be successful, since he suspected he was going to need some help to make it through the coming emotional minefield.

But planning a birthday gift for Bruce would be a good distraction. What would Bruce like? Maybe a new car? But he might be attached to the old one. He seemed remarkably un-materialistic. What kind of car would Bruce really like? Maybe a hybrid? Tony would have to investigate.

Maybe Bruce would like to go on a trip? He was still getting over his illness, so nothing too strenuous...a private beach, maybe, somewhere tropical. Lots of naps, maybe a little sex on the beach…

Tony shook his head. Not the time. He went upstairs to shower, continuing to turn possibilities over in his mind. He kept quietly brainstorming for the next few days. He'd learned from the early days of his friendship with Rhodey that sometimes people could get self-conscious about the kinds of presents Tony liked to give—though Rhodey had eventually warmed up to them—but it was hard for him to gauge what might be appropriate.

Then, on Saturday morning, he and Bruce took advantage of Bruce's gradually-increasing physical stamina and started their weekend with a leisurely round of morning sex. Afterward, Bruce curled up against Tony's chest with a contented sigh.

Tony said, "I think you might be making me a morning person."

Bruce laughed. "Isn't it almost 11AM?"

"Well, we started earlier. Anyway, you don't know what my old schedule was like."

"Then I'm happy I get to share some daylight hours with you."

Tony closed his eyes for a moment. Bruce wasn't always the most communicative person but every so often he would say the most earnest, tender things that took Tony completely off guard. He opened his eyes, took in a deep breath, and said, "So, what do you want for your birthday?" He could feel Bruce's body tense against him.

"Oh, Tony, you've already given me so much."

"What?"

"Practically a whole new wardrobe, a place to live…"

"Brucie-bear, I've been helping make sure your basic survival needs are taken care of. That's not a _birthday present_. A birthday present should be something...fun! I was thinking about getting you a new car but I wasn't sure what kind you'd want."

"A new...Tony, my car is fine, it'll last me for years. Subarus are very reliable."

"You could have two cars. I have...more than that."

"Well, that's fine, for you, but I...think I would be stressed out to have another car. I mean, I can only drive one at a time."

"Hmm. Well, I don't want to add to your stress levels. What about...a first edition of your favorite book? What is your favorite book?"

"I don't want that, Tony, thank you. I can just get books from the library."

Tony groaned in frustration. "What is the _point_ of being a billionaire if I can't spoil my adorable boyfriend a little bit?"

"Donate to charity in my name."

"How about, however much I spend on a gift for you, I match that amount in a charitable donation?"

"Fine, then I want, uh….a Faberge egg?"

Tony laughed. "If I thought there was a chance in hell you actually wanted a Faberge egg, I'd be on the phone with my art dealer this afternoon. But I'm pretty sure that would stress you out more than a new car."

Bruce laughed, too, and burrowed his face into Tony's shoulder. "I love you so much," he murmured, and then he sucked in a sharp breath and flinched against Tony. Bruce clearly hadn't meant to say it out loud, but even so, it set off fireworks in Tony's heart.

"I love you too," Tony replied, "So that's why I'm getting you _two_ Faberge eggs for your birthday. So you can have a spare in case the first one breaks."

Bruce lifted his head back up and gave Tony a sweet, shy smile. He kissed Tony, a gentle, tentative kiss that gradually deepened until Bruce pulled away to catch his breath again. Tony could go for another round already, but he wasn't sure that Bruce had recovered. So Tony said, "Well, what about a trip? What's your dream vacation?"

"Oh, I don't know. Um...I've always wanted to see the Northern Lights?"

Tony scrunched up his nose. "So...what, Alaska?"

"Yeah, or Canada...Iceland, I think? But I don't think December is the best time of year for visibility."

"Okay, well...we can look into that."

"I think August is when it's supposed to be the brightest. We could sleep under the stars…"

Tony shuddered. "Or in a cabin? With a bed? And a coffee maker?" Bruce laughed, and Tony continued, "Anyway, that's August, I guess, so we can look into that later. Where else do you want to go?"

"Well...I know it's nerdy but I've always wanted to go to New Zealand and see where they filmed the _Lord of the Rings_ movies. But it's such a long flight…"

"We could do that, though. Sometime. So wait, is that your favorite book? Just for curiosity. I won't buy any first edition Tolkien volumes if you really don't want me to."

"I don't know. They're definitely up there on my list. When I was a kid I must have read everything Tolkien wrote about ten times. Kind of, you know, classic escapism." Bruce shrugged and gave a sad smile. Tony sort of regretted asking, but he persevered.

"Okay, you sweet little nerd, I see you. But so in December, what about going somewhere warmer? Maybe Mount Doom?"

"It's pretty warm here."

"It's supposed to be in the 50s today," Tony whined.

"I guess I haven't gotten Californian enough to think that's cold."

"You'll see. We could go somewhere tropical, just lie on the beach…or Italy and get real pizza...Mexico for tacos..."

"It might be nice to get away for awhile," Bruce agreed. "Wherever you want to go."

"But it's _your_ birthday."

"Maybe what I want for my birthday is not to have to make any decisions," Bruce said, his tone not quite joking. 

"Okay," Tony said. "I can work with that." He pulled Bruce's face in for a kiss. "I love you," he said, again, because he wanted to make sure that Bruce knew that he meant it, that he hadn't just been mirroring what Bruce had said.

Bruce sucked in a breath. "I know," he said. And then he laughed a little and said, "I kinda always wanted to say that."

Tony laughed too. "Excuse me? You think you're the Han Solo in this relationship?"

"Well, yeah, I'm scruffy and I live in my junky car, and you're a beautiful princess."

"I—well, huh," Tony said. "Wait, did Han and Chewie _live_ in the Falcon?"

"Yeah, where else? Don't get me wrong, I _love_ Princess Leia," Bruce continued.

"Hmm. Well, you don't live in your car anymore, so."

"I'm pretty sure Han and Leia eventually moved in together."

"This is such a nerdy conversation."

"Yeah, but I'm pretty into it."

"Oh? You wanna do some roleplaying?" Bruce asked, to Tony's mild surprise. Not that Tony wasn't into it.

"Should I get out the handcuffs? Are you going to rescue me from my prison cell?"

"Mm-hmm, and then we'll jump into the garbage chute," Bruce said, his voice low and sultry and brimming with mirth.

"Oh, yes, talk dirty to me!" Tony moaned, and then they both laughed. And then they were kissing, and then, well, it turned out that Bruce really was feeling better, because before long they were both hard again. 

They cleaned up after round two, and Bruce said, "So much for being morning people. I think we missed breakfast."

"Don't you know about brunch?" Tony responded. "Wow, I really am gentrifying you. Do you want to go out?"

"Is it okay if we stay in?"

"Of course. But let's order in, I think you should rest after this morning's performance, and I'm sure you don't want brunch that _I_ cooked."

Bruce gave a sheepish little laugh, but he didn't protest, and before long they were curled up on the couch eating brunch out of to-go containers. Tony had been trying to cut down on eating meat around Bruce, but he couldn't resist the siren call of bacon. Bruce seemed unbothered.

It occurred to Tony to ask, "Hey, how long have you been vegetarian?"

Bruce blinked. "Oh, uh, I guess, since college. But I don't mind if you eat meat around me or anything..."

"No, no, I know, I was just wondering. Do you mind if I ask why?"

Bruce took a sip of coffee before answering, "Mostly I didn't want anything else to die because of me."

"Jesus, Bruce."

"Sorry. This is...this is why I don't usually like to talk about it."

"But you know you're not—you didn't—you haven't done anything wrong, Bruce."

Bruce gave a sort of ambivalent sideways nod. Then he added, "Anyway, it lowers my carbon footprint."

"That's your more socially acceptable answer. You know that, right?"

"I know," Bruce said. "But I thought maybe with you, I didn't have to worry about that."

"Hey, Bruce, hey, you don't, I just...I just thought you should hear it out loud. Again. That you didn't...and you shouldn't feel bad about what happened. You don't need to do penance, or whatever the fuck."

"It's good advice, Tony, thanks." Bruce smiled. "I'm...I've been trying to take it. It's a process." He took another bite of eggs florentine.

"Yeah." Tony took a bite of his waffles and then said, "I, uh, Pepper made me an appointment with a different therapist, on Monday morning."

"Yeah? That's...that's good. I hope you have a better experience. Do you...do you want me to come with you? I mean, to wait in the waiting room, not to, you know, I mean, the appointment itself should be private, of course."

Tony thought for a moment. "No, that's okay. I think the timing of it would make you late for your class, and I...yeah, I'd rather do it on my own. But maybe I'll drop by campus and get lunch with you afterwards?"

"Okay. Yeah, I'd like that, if you feel up for it."

"I'm always up for lunch."

"I mean, after your appointment...you might want to be alone. I feel that way sometimes, so I wouldn't hold it against you if you canceled."

"Okay," Tony agreed. "I'll...I'll keep you posted." It was so nice to have someone who understood what he was going through, someone who was so supportive and cute and sexy...Tony should probably buy Bruce three Faberge eggs.

Oblivious to Tony's thoughts, Bruce quietly started picking up the empty to-go boxes and tidying up the coffee table. He carried away their trash and returned with his laptop. Bruce settled back onto the couch and said, "Sorry, just going to try to catch up on some emails."

Tony kissed his cheek. "Nothing to apologize for. You're a role model of productivity." He got his own laptop and followed Bruce's lead, and for a while they sat together in more-or-less quiet companionship. Occasionally, Tony asked for Bruce's advice on how to handle a student's requests for accommodations, and Bruce was unflaggingly helpful. But after a few hours, Bruce quietly set his laptop on the table along with his glasses and curled up to "take a quick nap." 

Tony covered him with a soft blanket. Poor Bruce really was still worn out from his illness. Tony should probably avoid making international travel plans for the next few weeks. He started poking around online and smiled to himself as the perfect plan began to gel. He forwarded the details to Pepper and asked her to make the necessary arrangements, and he enlisted JARVIS's help for another part of Bruce's gift.

Tony was pleased with his plans, and Bruce was still asleep so Tony decided to leave him be and headed for his workshop. Bruce's arrival at Tony's house had been a very welcome distraction, but Tony was still determined to figure out the killer invention that would have the board _begging_ Tony to take control of his company back from Stane. He really felt like the food replicator could be it. He got back to work on his prototype and asked JARVIS to let him know when Bruce woke up.

While Tony worked, JARVIS announced an incoming call from Rhodey, and Tony picked it up. "Hey Platypus, what's up?"

"Just wanted to check in. How's everything going with you and your new boo?"

"Uh, pretty good! He's taking a nap right now. I think it's taking pretty much all of his energy to get through stuff for his classes, but since it's so close to finals he doesn't want to call in sick any more."

"That's rough. Hope he feels better soon."

"Thanks, me too. How about you? How's life?"

"Oh...I'm hanging in there. But, hey, I was calling to ask about Christmas."

"What about it?"

"Well, I didn't want to barge in on you for another holiday, but I wanted you to know that you—and Bruce—are welcome to come to Philly. I know my mama would love to see you. And to meet Bruce."

Tony was a little tempted. Mama Rhodes had always been so kind to Tony, and ever since freshman year of college, Tony had spent a lot of holidays with the Rhodes family. But he'd been trying so hard to think what Bruce might want, and he suspected that a big, boisterous holiday filled with strangers—even extremely warm and welcoming strangers like the Rhodeses—wasn't it. Tony said, "Oh, sorry, Bruce and I are going on a little getaway, just the two of us. I—I miss your family, really, but I think, well, Bruce is so shy, I think he'd be a little overwhelmed…"

"I see how it is," Rhodey said teasingly. 

"Well, what are you doing for New Year's? Maybe we can get together?"

"I told Carol I'd go to a party at her friend's house."

Tony made a face. He didn't feel like going to a house party at a stranger's house, and he doubted Bruce would either. "Maybe we can visit in January? Classes don't start again until after Martin Luther King Day."

"Academia is a sweet schedule."

"Yeah, but I'm hoping not to get used to it."

"You'll get SI back," Rhodey said confidently. "It's got your name on it."

They chatted aimlessly for a while longer before hanging up, and Tony got back to work. He smelled something delicious and wondered if he was having a stroke, but then he saw that Bruce had slid a plate of cookies in front of him. Tony blinked for a moment before saying, "Is this a dream?"

Bruce's forehead furrowed. "No?"

"JARVIS, I told you to tell me when Bruce woke up."

"Well, yes, but then Dr. Banner told me not to bother you."

"It—it explicitly would not have been a bother."

"I wanted to surprise you," Bruce said softly. 

"I calculated a 95% probability that you would enjoy the surprise," JARVIS said.

Tony sighed and took a cookie, still warm from the oven. "Okay, yes, it's a nice surprise," he said. "You're so sweet. How are you feeling?"

"Good, for the moment. I just hate that I only seem to get a few usable hours each day…"

"Well, you'll get better," Tony said confidently. He took another bite of cookie. "God, these are good. What are they?"

"Ginger _biscuits_ , from Ruby Tandoh's cookbook," Bruce said, naming one of their favorite Bake Off contestants.

"Wow. You're amazing."

"I just made cookies. _You're_ out here doing amazing stuff," Bruce said modestly.

"Hmm...I suppose I'm willing to concede that we're both amazing," Tony declared. Bruce smiled, and Tony added, "Since your amazing self is here, let me show you what I've been working on…"

Bruce took a cookie for himself and listened intently. He was the perfect lab partner, equally impressed and helpful...until he excused himself to go to bed a few hours later. But at least he did go up to bed, rather than the couch in the workshop. Tony must have seemed less in need of a babysitter than he had earlier in the week.

He put in a few more hours in the workshop then went upstairs to join Bruce, who was sleeping peacefully. His snoring had improved, for which Tony was thankful.

Sunday passed in a cozy, peaceful manner similar to Saturday, up until the point where Tony put himself to bed, again hours after Bruce. This time, Tony fell into a blurry nightmare. He wasn't sure of the details but his pulse was racing when Bruce called him awake.

Bruce held Tony close and gently soothed him. "Hey, hey, you're safe," he murmured, while Tony panted for breath.

Eventually, Tony said, "What if...therapy can't fix me?"

"It can't, because you're not broken," Bruce said firmly. He'd told Tony that before, but Tony liked hearing it. He gently rubbed Tony's shoulders and said, "It's normal to be nervous about your appointment tomorrow, but it's just going to be a meeting with someone who might be able to teach you some coping mechanisms."

"And then I won't have to wake you up so often?"

"Shh, you know I don't mind. And I do my share of waking you up, too."

Tony sighed. "I love you."

"I love you too," Bruce replied sleepily. He fell back to sleep and Tony focused on the deep, even sounds of his breaths. Eventually, Tony fell asleep, too. When he woke up, Bruce's side of the bed was already cold. Tony pouted before showering and getting ready for the day. When he went downstairs, he found that Bruce had made coffee and pumpkin-cranberry scones.

Bruce was sitting at the kitchen counter with his laptop, and he smiled up at Tony. "Good morning."

"Bruce, you didn't have to…"

"I wanted to," Bruce said simply.

Tony sat down and took a bite out of a delicious scone. "Maybe if I bring some of these to my appointment, my therapist will like me."

"Of course they'll like you. Why wouldn't they?" 

"Well, if you haven't noticed my many failings, I'm not going to point them out to you now," Tony said, with dignity.

Bruce laughed. "Tony, you're the sweetest, most generous person I've ever met." He leaned over and gave Tony a quick kiss. "I've gotta head out. But let me know how your appointment goes, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll tell you about it at lunch. I'll pick up shawarma."

"Okay, but if you don't feel up to it, that's fine, too," Bruce said gently. He scooped up his messenger bag and headed out the door, leaving Tony alone with his thoughts. Before too long, JARVIS reminded Tony that it would be time to share his thoughts with someone else. He checked his appearance in his phone screen and went out to the garage. He blared music loudly as he drove, then sat in the parking lot until he was almost late. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and went inside the small, nondescript office building. He checked in at the front desk, where he received a very discreet double-take before he was called back into the therapist's office.

The office was decorated tastefully—not a motivational poster in sight—and the therapist had short grey hair and wore khakis and a sweater. She had a kind smile and introduced herself as Mary. Tony felt right away that he had found the right person. She laughed at his jokes but always noticed when he was trying not to answer a question. She wasn't mean, but she seemed to have a well-developed bullshit detector. And unlike his appointment with the last guy—which had seemed interminable—Tony was actually surprised and a little disappointed when their time was up. 

He scheduled another appointment and saw a text from Bruce— _How'd it go? <3_

He replied, _Pretty good, actually! I'll tell you about it over lunch._

Tony parked his car in the faculty lot and set out to the shawarma truck. There was a bit of a line, and as people crowded in behind him, he started to feel freaked out. He wanted to stay—he'd told Bruce he would bring lunch—but...he wanted to leave. He needed to leave. He'd made himself so vulnerable just minutes ago, he was sure everyone could see it on his face.

He left and fled to his office, fighting for breath. Bruce was already there, flopped on the couch. He sat up when Tony came in, and the smile on his face quickly faded. "Tony? What's wrong?"

"No, nothing, just—" he struggled to breathe. "Just a long line for the food truck. A...a big crowd."

Bruce nodded, a sympathetic look on his face. He handed Tony a bottle of water and said, "Are you hungry? Do you want me to go get something? Or...or would you rather not be alone?"

Tony didn't want to be alone, but he didn't want Bruce to forgo lunch, either. "You can go, I'm….I'll be okay."

"I'll be right back." Bruce kissed Tony's forehead and left Tony's office. He returned much faster than Tony had expected, but instead of boxes of delicious-smelling shawarma, he had two Styrofoam cups of ramen and an apologetic expression on his face. "Sorry, this was the fastest thing." He handed over a cup and a plastic spoon.

"I'm glad you're back," Tony said, accepting one of the cups with a nod. He took a sip of broth and tried hard not to make a face. The stuff tasted truly horrible. How did Bruce stand eating it?

"So...it was good?" Bruce asked tentatively. "The appointment?"

"Yeah, I'm totally cured now," Tony said. 

Bruce laughed. "Wow."

"I mean, I'm going to go back, but just so I can bring her some of your scones. Not because she thinks I could benefit from therapy, not to mention a referral to a psychiatrist who can prescribe some anxiety medication."

"That sounds good, Tony."

"Yeah. But then I—but—then I felt like I was going to have a panic attack outside," Tony admitted.

"It's okay, Tony. Talking about the kind of stuff that comes up at therapy...well, it's normal to just want a little quiet time after that, to decompress. Or whatever. It's hard to have to dredge up old memories, to work through them...you're doing fine. "

"Well, as long as you're here, I will be."

Bruce blushed and smiled. Tony couldn't wait until he could take Bruce on a nice vacation, but for how, he was content to sit here in his office, sharing bad soup with his very good boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, if you're reading this chapter the day I posted it--September 16, 2020--it's the 20-year anniversary of [Donors Choose](https://www.donorschoose.org/), and all donations have a 50% match! Small spoiler for this fic: Donors Choose will be mentioned a few chapters from now...but then it won't be the anniversary any more, so, I'm sharing it now. They're a great nonprofit organization that lets you make small donations to help fund projects for teachers. Which, it would be cool if taxes would just pay for these things, but...they don't, so, 50% match! 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading ♥


	19. Cultural Traditions & Celebrations

On the morning of Bruce's birthday, he woke up to find Tony sitting up in bed, watching him with sparkling eyes. It was a little disconcerting, but Bruce mumbled, "Good morning.”

"Good morning, Jolly Green! Are you ready for your birthday blow job?"

Bruce let out a surprised laugh, but it quickly became apparent that Tony was not joking. He kissed Bruce on the lips and started to work his way down Bruce's body. 

"Tony…"

"You want me to stop?"

"Well...no...oh, fuck, Tony, that's...so good, uh!" Bruce gasped, and Tony carried on with getting Bruce's birthday off to a stellar start.

After they'd recovered, Bruce curled up against Tony's chest. Tony said, "Now, I know I _said_ I wouldn't get you a Faberge egg—"

"— _Tony_."

"—And I didn't! But I have been watching some videos online and I am pretty confident that I can make you an omelet. Out of regular eggs."

"Okay," Bruce agreed with a smile. "That sounds good."

In the kitchen, he watched quietly, trying to hide his amusement as Tony made omelets. Tony really was doing a fine job, but his intense level of concentration on the simple task was precious, as was his proud smile when he brought a plate over to Bruce.

Bruce dug in, relieved that the omelet was actually good. He would have tried to pretend, if he'd needed to, but it was nice not to have to. He was also pleasantly surprised by the small scale nature of Tony's birthday surprises. The blow job and omelet had both been great, but he'd been worried that Tony might have gotten him something uncomfortably expensive. Tony had seemed distracted the last few days, though he'd always insisted he was "fine" when Bruce asked. Maybe he'd just been worried about his cooking skills.

After breakfast, Tony said, "Okay. So, after your morning class, we can have lunch in my office before your class at one?"

"Mm, actually, I'm done for the day after my morning class," Bruce said. "My afternoon session is Physics 242 and they don't have an exam, just a final project that's due Friday."

"Even better!" Tony said. "Then you can definitely take a nap this afternoon."

Bruce smiled. "I might not need one...I've been getting better."

"You should take one anyway, to make sure you're well rested for tonight."

"What's tonight?"

"Your birthday dinner," Tony chirped.

Bruce should have known that Tony wouldn't stop with just an omelet. "You d—"

"—If you were about to tell me I don't have to do something, trust me, I know," Tony said. "I _want_ to. And you want me to be happy, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Then we're agreed." Tony smiled and kissed Bruce. 

"I gotta go, Tony. I love you."

"I love you too. Just come home after class, we'll have lunch here."

"Sounds good."

Bruce's good mood endured as he parked his car and headed for his office. He had a few minutes to gather his thoughts before giving his students their final exams. His TA, Amadeus, dropped by with a big blueberry muffin with a single candle sticking out of it.

"Hey, Professor Banner, happy birthday!" 

Bruce smiled and took the muffin. "Thanks, Amadeus. Um...how did you know?" He was still pretty full from the omelet, but he didn't want to offend, so he took a bite. It was good.

Amadeus beamed. "I got an email from _Tony Stark_."

"Oh." Bruce could feel his cheeks heating and willed the blush to die back down.

"Soo what did he get you for your birthday? Like, a small island nation, or, uh, gold doubloons, or something?" Bruce raised his eyebrows, and Amadeus added, "Well, I don't know what rich people are into."

"Me neither, but we're going out to dinner tonight."

"Probably somewhere good."

"Probably," Bruce agreed. "How are your finals going?"

"I'm kicking their ass," Amadeus said casually.

"I'm sure you are." Bruce checked the time. "I suppose we should go give the 101 students their chance to kick this exam's ass."

"I think they will. We had a really good study session last night."

"Thanks again, by the way, I really appreciate you helping out so much the last few weeks."

"Well, it's my job. And I didn't want you to die."

"I wasn't—"

"I know, I know, but you were like, real sick. But you're doing better now, right? I mean, you don't sound like you're dying anymore."

"Yeah, I am," Bruce said, grateful that it was the truth. "I'm still looking forward to winter break, though."

"Oh, yeah, who isn't?"

It was funny, because in the past— _Bruce_ had never looked forward to breaks. He'd always preferred the business of class to the loneliness of breaks. He'd also traditionally preferred to avoid acknowledging his birthday; growing up with a father who openly and frequently wished that Bruce had never been born had given him a complicated relationship to the day. But Tony had given him such a good start to the day that it made Bruce inclined to hold on to his good mood. Maybe he should feel a little annoyed that Tony was reaching out to Bruce's TAs, but he was sure that Tony had meant well. And Amadeus's gesture was sweet. 

In class, Amadeus passed out the exams while Bruce gave one last pep talk. "This exam covers everything that we learned. There are no trick questions—trust yourselves, you know more than you think you know. I'd like nothing more than to give you all As, so try your best to make that happen. You can leave class after you finish your exam, so I just want to say now that it's been a privilege and a lot of fun to learn with all of you this semester, and I hope you all have safe, restful winter breaks. Okay, does everyone have an exam? Begin. I'd wish you luck, but you won't need it."

Bruce dismissed Amadeus to work on his own end-of-semester tasks. He sat up front, picking at the muffin while occasionally glancing at his students. He didn't need to monitor them too closely. He'd given students the equations they would need; there wasn't much they could do to cheat. One by one, his students started turning in their exams. They whispered, "Happy birthday!" to him as they left the room. Bruce blinked. Had Tony emailed all of his students, too? But then he glanced over the exams and saw that when Amadeus had made copies for him, he'd added one last handwritten question—"For one point of extra credit, wish Professor Banner a happy birthday!"

He smiled down at the paper. He tentatively poked around his brain, waiting for the little voice to kick in and tell him that he didn't deserve any of this, that it really would have been better if he'd never been born...but it didn't come. It felt like a milestone that he should tell his therapist about. But maybe he shouldn't brag until he'd made it through the rest of the day. He still had a suspicion that Tony had some kind of stupid-expensive gift waiting for him. His therapist had tried to reason with Bruce that someone who'd grown up with money the way Tony had would think about it very differently, and that Bruce should try not to assume all gifts came with strings attached. Bruce was working on it, but it was slow going. It was easier for him to accept small things—an omelet, a muffin, a student's cute cartoon scribbled on the exam. 

Bruce's good mood held as he collected the last student exam. He tucked them into his bag, locked his office, and texted Tony that he was on his way home. Tony responded with a heart emoji, a birthday cake emoji, and a taco emoji. And, as promised, when Bruce got home, the dining room table was filled with tacos and a beautiful cake.

"Hi honey, how was school?" Tony asked.

"It was fine...my TA said that Tony Stark emailed him to make sure he knew it was my birthday?"

"Well, he said he didn't know, so it's a helpful service I provided."

Bruce laughed and shook his head. "You're so…"

"Much?" Tony suggested, the slightest hint of worry tracing his handsome face.

"Sweet," Bruce corrected.

Tony's face relaxed into a smile. "Let's eat before the tacos get cold."

But when Bruce went to sit down, he noticed a few gifts on the table, behind the tacos. He glanced at the gifts but ignored them in favor of taking a veggie taco and some guacamole onto his plate.

"You going to open those?" Tony asked.

"Well, I didn't want the tacos to get cold," Bruce said innocently. He wasn't even particularly hungry after the omelet and the muffin, but it was hard to say no to tacos. Plus, Tony was cute when he pouted. "How was your morning?" Bruce asked, then took a big bite.

"Time dragged on endlessly without you."

Bruce laughed. "I wasn't gone that long."

"Thank god. How did your final go?"

"I just glanced at the exams but they seem pretty good. I'll grade them later."

"You're not going to have Amadeus do it?"

"Well, it's the final, and I give partial credit based on work shown...Amadeus is great at grading the smaller assignments, but, I mean, it's my job, and I have more experience deciphering undergrad handwriting."

Tony sighed. "You're so good. Are you going to open your presents _now_?"

Bruce shook his head and ate more guacamole. When they'd both had their fill of Tex-Mex, Tony asked, "Soo...do you want cake now, or do you want to open presents?" He shoved the gifts closer to Bruce and batted his eyelashes.

Bruce pretended to weigh his options, despite Tony's obvious eagerness. "I guess I could wait for cake."

"Yay!"

Bruce started with a small box. The top and bottom were wrapped separately with a big bow on top, like a present in a movie. He carefully untied the ribbon and lifted the lid to reveal a small potted cactus. "Aww."

"That one's from Pepper."

"That's so nice of her! Wait, when's her birthday?"

"It's, um…March? May?"

"It's April 10th, sir," JARVIS said.

"Aha! I was in the right season," Tony said proudly.

Bruce nodded. "Well, please remind me, JARVIS."

Tony smiled. "JARVIS is always on top of that, which is why I don't actually need to remember anything. Anyway, yeah, Pepper's great, but keep going."

Bruce's other gift was bigger in size, again wrapped in shiny paper with a big bow, which Bruce suspected was Pepper's work, even if the gift was from Tony. He carefully untied the ribbon and pulled the paper off without tearing it. He found a thick brick of a spiral-bound book with a plastic cover, like the kind you could have made at the copy center. The cover had a photo of a Faberge egg, with "Happy birthday, Bruce!" in a swirly font.

"Tony…" Bruce said hesitantly.

"Keep going," Tony huffed. "You know you can't judge a book by a cover, right?"

Bruce opened the book. The first page described a classroom in Detroit looking for a set of microscopes. The next page, Houston first graders who wanted a pet frog for their classroom. After that, a classroom set of _The Hobbit_ for a Dayton junior high's gifted and talented program. He flipped through at random; there were hundreds of these classroom projects, maybe thousands, and all of them were marked "fully funded" as of December 18th. 

Bruce looked up at Tony with wonder. His tone was different as he repeated, "Tony…"

Tony grinned. "So, you know, it turns out that the price of one Faberge egg can make a _lot_ of teachers' days."

"This is incredible, Tony, thank you."

"So you like it?"

"I love it. Thank you."

"JARVIS and Pepper did a lot of the heavy lifting," Tony said modestly. "But it was my idea. And my money, soo…I probably deserve at least 90% of the credit."

Bruce smiled. He felt a warm feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with the spicy salsa he'd just eaten. "Then I thank you 90%."

Tony shook his head. "So, are you ready for cake? Or we could skip to just some whipped cream?" He wiggled his eyebrows, and Bruce couldn't help but laugh. But then Tony produced a can of whipped cream and straddled Bruce's lap, and Bruce stopped laughing and started kissing Tony. 

It was hard to believe he'd ever felt ambivalent about sex. But, well, that was before he'd been with Tony. Now, he was with Tony, and he let Tony and his can of whipped cream lead him to the big couch in the workshop, which was both closer than the bedroom and easier to wipe down afterwards than changing the bedding. 

Most of a can of whipped cream and a couple of orgasms later, Bruce felt himself succumbing to fatigue. Tony kissed his forehead and cleaned him off with a damp rag, then covered him with a blanket. "Nap time?" he asked.

"Mm...yeah, for a little bit." Bruce rubbed his eyes and took off his glasses.

"Rest up, my sweet little Green Bean."

"Whipped cream does _not_ go on green beans," Bruce murmured.

"Well, I think it was delicious."

Bruce shook his head and burrowed his face into the arm of the sofa. A small, repressed part of his brain thought he should feel embarrassed, but instead he felt...content. Tony already knew all the worst parts of Bruce, had seen him delirious with fever and heard about his childhood and he hadn't rejected Bruce. He'd held him tightly and licked whipped cream off of places where it frankly wouldn't have ever occurred to Bruce to put it, and then he'd tucked Bruce in for a nap. Bruce drifted off to sleep feeling very lucky.

When he came to, he sat up and stretched. Tony was hard at work on his prototype, and Bruce took advantage of a moment to just watch Tony in action. Bruce realized he was still nude under the blanket, and he tugged his clothes back on before going to stand by Tony's side. Tony was buried in his work and it took him a little while to notice that Bruce was there, but he turned a bright smile on Bruce as soon as he noticed.

"Hey Sleeping Brucie, take a look at this!"

Bruce let himself be dragged into Tony's whirlwind of genius activity. Bruce loved to teach, but he also loved to learn. Trying to understand Tony's designs was a much more strenuous mental workout than anything even Bruce's most complex undergraduate classes could offer him. He worried that Tony might grow tired of Bruce's questions, but Tony seemed to thrive on the attention of someone who could at least mostly understand Tony's work. And on rare occasions, Bruce thought he might even be helping. 

Bruce was startled when JARVIS said, "Excuse me, sirs, but you should be prepared to leave in about thirty minutes in order to make your dinner engagement."

"Thanks, J," Tony said casually.

"Dinner? What time is it?"

"The time is 7:00PM," JARVIS said.

Bruce blinked. He hadn't napped for _that_ long. He and Tony had been working on the prototype for hours, but the time had flown by. 

"You want a shower, Jolly Green?"

"Um...yeah, I guess I should." Bruce wasn't sure he had managed to get all of the whipped cream off of his body. "What should I wear?"

"Whatever you want."

"But where are we going for dinner?"

Tony smiled. "Somewhere private."

"Just...tell me what the dress code is."

"Casual."

"What are you going to wear?"

"Brucie-bear, I had no idea you were such a fashionista."

"I just don't want to look out of place."

"Impossible," Tony declared. But he added, "But since you're so curious, I will be wearing a pair of lovingly-distressed jeans, an impeccable vintage T-shirt, and a Hugo Boss blazer."

Bruce sighed. "Okay. Thank you."

"But you should feel free to wear as little clothing as you'd like!" Tony called after Bruce as he left the workshop. Bruce shook his head, but he smiled to himself a little bit. It was hard not to be flattered by Tony's interest in Bruce's completely average appearance.

Upstairs, Bruce showered, shaved, and hesitantly put some kind of product in his hair. It had been in his bathroom since he'd come to Tony's house, but he hadn't used it yet. He put on some of the new clothes that had recently shown up in his closet—crisp stone-colored khakis and an emerald green cashmere sweater. He cleaned his glasses and gave his appearance one final shrug in the mirror before going to meet Tony downstairs.

Tony was dressed as promised, and he looked so good that Bruce couldn't remember why he'd ever been irritated by Tony's blazer + jeans attire. Tony smiled and said, "Looking good, Jolly Green."

Bruce put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "You, too."

"I'll drive," Tony announced, and he led the way to one of his very shiny, very expensive cars. Bruce hopped in the passenger seat and watched with bemusement as Tony drove...back to campus. He turned a sideways glance at Tony, who smiled and said, "You'll see."

Tony parked in their usual faculty lot, closest to the science center, and he took Bruce's hand and strode confidently through the front door. Bruce followed curiously. He'd really been dreading that Tony might take him somewhere uncomfortably fancy, but, well, he wouldn't have minded going somewhere slightly nicer than _their workplace_. 

But he'd learned not to underestimate Tony, so he followed along as Tony led him on a winding path through the building. The hallways smelled of coffee and unshowered bodies as they passed several alcoves and open classrooms packed with students cramming for finals, though fortunately Bruce didn't spot any of his own students. They made one last turn and arrived at the school's small planetarium. It wasn't anything as impressive as the one at bigger museums, but it was enough for the school's small astronomy program.

Tony nodded breezily at the student monitoring the entrance, and then he held the door open for Bruce. Bruce walked inside and found a blanket spread on the floor, with a picnic basket and a bottle of champagne. The projector was already showing a high resolution video of the Northern Lights.

"Oh my god, Tony," Bruce gasped. He threw his arms around Tony and kissed him.

"You like it?" Tony asked.

"God, Tony, of course, this is…" he trailed off and shook his head. "So thoughtful. So...romantic. Thank you."

"Yeah?" Tony grinned. "Does that mean you'll let me get to third base tonight?"

Bruce elbowed Tony. "I haven't been an easy enough mark for you?"

"Well, I just don't want to take you for granted. But hey, you hungry?"

They settled on cushions on the floor and made up little plates of crudite and charcuterie. 

Bruce took a delicious bite of brie and said, "I know this isn't from campus dining services."

"Pepper arranged it all, it's from some French deli she likes."

"Well, she has great taste."

"Big time," Tony agreed. "Did you try this gruyere?"

Bruce took the bite of cheese Tony offered him. "Mm, it's good."

Tony sighed. "Yeah? You like it?"

"Yes?" Bruce said, wondering if this was some kind of test. "Do you?"

"To be honest, I actually prefer cheddar."

"Oh. Well. Cheddar's good too."

Tony said, "I like...mild cheddar...but they never have that on charcuterie plates."

"Surely Pepper could have gotten you some?" Bruce peered at the overwhelming cheese plate.

"No, yeah, she did." Tony picked up a little orange cube and ate it with satisfaction. "I dunno, sometimes I just wish I had a more refined palate. I'm always supposed to go to these fancy dinners and I'd almost always rather just have a cheeseburger. I mean, I can get through those kinds of events without embarrassing myself, if I try, but...blech."

"You're an adult. Eat what you like," Bruce said. He was privately a little charmed and maybe a little relieved by Tony's picky palate. Their meals together had mostly been limited by proximity to campus and then by Bruce's illness; he'd been assuming that Tony must be impossibly cultured. It was strange how in some ways, Bruce knew Tony so intimately, yet he still had so much to learn.

Tony smiled. "I think I'll like whatever you bake, though. Just for the record."

Bruce smiled back and helped himself to some of the sharper cheeses Pepper had apparently only gotten for his benefit. There was a small, delicious cake, too, different from the one they'd skipped at lunch. Tony lit a candle and made Bruce make a wish. Bruce really wasn't sure what else he could possibly wish for, so he just closed his eyes and took a moment to feel grateful before blowing out the candle.

After he'd had his share of food, he leaned back on his elbows and watched the stunning display on the planetarium's dome ceiling. "This is so beautiful."

Tony scooted over and leaned his head against Bruce's shoulder. "Yeah, it's pretty good." 

"Seriously, Tony, I don't know how to thank you."

"You did, you said 'thank you,' and I've been thanked."

"But…"

"Shh. Let's just enjoy this simulated natural wonder together."

Bruce slipped his arm around Tony's waist. "Sounds good," he said, and it was.


	20. Introduction to Media Studies

The morning after Bruce's birthday, Tony awoke alone. He stretched and rolled over and took a moment to mourn his lost opportunity for morning sex. Though perhaps it wasn't totally off the table; it's not like they were limited to the bed. But as soon as he sat up, JARVIS said, "Good morning, sir, Ms. Potts has asked that you call her as soon as you wake up."

Tony scrunched his face up in performative dismay. That wasn't usually a good sign. Pepper never wanted to talk to him first thing to tell him he'd won a Teen Choice Award or inherited a puppy or registered a new patent in his sleep. "Well, surely she meant after I'd had some coffee," he said, and went downstairs. In the kitchen he found fresh coffee in the pot—a sign that Bruce had been there, but no Bruce. Tony poured himself a cup, and asked, "J, where's Bruce?"

"Dr. Banner is in the living room, sir. Might I remind you to call Ms. Potts?"

"Yeah, yeah," Tony said. He glanced at his phone, saw a riot of notifications, and took a long sip of coffee. In the living room he found Bruce, sitting on the couch with his knees to his chest. His laptop was open on the coffee table but Bruce was staring blankly into space with a miserable expression on his face. Concern replacing horniness, Tony set his coffee on the table, settled on the couch and said, "Bruce? What's wrong?"

It took Bruce a moment to stir. He turned to Tony and said shakily, "Um, I got some...messages…" 

"What? What kind of messages? Like threats?"

Bruce shook his head minutely and pushed his laptop toward Tony. Tony accepted the silent invitation and looked at the email up on Bruce's screen. A reporter with Buzzfeed was looking for a statement on why Tony Stark might have made nearly $20 million worth of donations in his name.

"There's more like that. And voicemails," Bruce whispered.

Tony shook his head at his own stupidity. Why hadn't he thought something like this would happen? _Because usually he had to beg to get the media to cover anything_ good _he did. Why would they be interested in this if he hadn't even put out a press release for it?_ Aloud he said, "Okay. Okay. I'm so sorry, Bruce, but this...this will be fine. We'll take care of it."

"Okay. Uh...what will _we_ do, exactly?"

" _I_ will call Pepper and she will come over and we will take care of it," Tony said reassuringly.

"Okay," Bruce agreed. "Should I reply to any of these?"

"Absolutely not." Tony put his arm around him and Bruce curled into his side. 

Holding Bruce in place, Tony pulled out his phone and called Pepper, who lightly berated him for not calling her sooner but then said that she was on her way and she would bring doughnuts. "You're the best, Pepper," Tony said.

"Did she fix it?" Bruce asked drily.

"Um...not quite yet. But she's on her way. She will. We will."

"Okay."

"How are you feeling? One to five?"

"Three...and a half? I'm...I do trust you and Pepper, but I'm nervous."

Tony sipped his coffee and rubbed Bruce's shoulders. Shortly thereafter, Pepper came striding into the living room with a box of doughnuts and a harried expression.

"Hey, Pepper," Tony said, with a cheeriness he did not feel.

"Good morning, boys," Pepper said.

Bruce lifted a hand in a wave, still tucked against Tony's chest.

"Tony, I assume you already know you fucked up here, so we can move past your explanation and right on to trying to fix it."

"Technically JARVIS was the one who made the individual donations, so I think this is his fault."

"I followed your instructions to the letter, sir," JARVIS protested.

"Also, you made JARVIS," Pepper said. 

"Whatever," Tony huffed. "I guess I assumed that since each individual donation wasn't that much, it wouldn't be a big deal?"

"Well, welcome to the internet, Tony," Pepper replied. "But really, this is going to be an easy fix, okay? It's almost the holidays. This is a feel-good story. We just need to give a few more tiny feel-good crumbs to the press and they'll move on."

"What crumbs?" Bruce asked.

Pepper nodded. "This is where we have a decision to make. If you two wanted to go public with your relationship, this would be a great time to do it. Otherwise, I think we can still write this off as a birthday gift from eccentric billionaire Tony Stark to his new friend. You know, something about how you met while teaching and Bruce helped you realize how important teachers are, blah blah blah."

"Bruce _did_ do that," Tony said. "Blah blah blah."

"You really think people will believe you spent $20 million on a gift for a friend?" Bruce asked.

Tony shrugged. "Why not? As Pepper so kindly said, I'm _eccentric._ I dunno, I've probably spent that much on gifts for Rhodey before. The media loves me and Rhodey's bromance!"

"I'm not sure if we can keep it a secret much longer, anyway. Amadeus saw us kissing, and who knows how many other students—and staff—have noticed and not said anything to us?" Bruce asked.

Pepper hummed. "I haven't seen anything come up on any of the social media tags I track. It's up to you. Obviously, if you go public about dating, there will be a little bit more interest in Bruce than if you say you're friends. But I think it'll be an easy story to sell. Bruce is, like, one thousand percent more likeable than anyone else you've ever dated," Pepper said in a matter-of-fact tone. 

"What?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah, I think that math checks out," Tony said, reflecting on Bruce's predecessors. 

"Plus, everyone loves it when a celebrity dates a normal person," Pepper continued. "If we bundle that with the donation story, it's a cute little feel-good thing right before the holidays, and then everyone moves on."

"Am I a normal person?" Bruce asked.

Tony kissed his cheek. "Yes, my sweet little normie, I will take you to the finest Paneras and Gaps in the land."

Bruce let out a little huff. "And are you sure everyone will move on? I mean I...are people going to be...looking into my past?"

" _No,_ " Tony said, at the same time that Pepper said, "Maybe."

Bruce sat up and looked between them both, his expression haunted. Pepper continued, "Sorry, guys, but...maybe! Maybe they will. We all know there are some real dirtbag gossip reporters out there. But the good news is, Bruce, I think your record really is pretty locked down. We have a pretty good guy who does our background checks and all he found was that you _had_ the sealed record, not what it was. And, Bruce, I know you don't want to talk about it, and I hope you won't ever have to, but to be totally honest, that stuff all makes you even more sympathetic. So _if_ anyone somehow happened to turn up that story, I...I mean, I don't know. I don't think there's much chance of it getting out, but I can't say zero percent. I'm sorry, I can't."

Bruce nodded and hunched his shoulders, curling in on himself. "I'm sorry, Bruce," Tony said. For a moment, his brain was filled with images of old magazine covers and headlines about what a spoiled young playboy Tony was. The thought of shy Bruce enduring even a fraction of that kind of negative attention made Tony's gut clench. "I hate that this is the price of dating me."

"It's worth it," Bruce murmured. 

Tony brightened. "So...you want to go public? As a couple?"

"I...I guess we'd have to at some point, right?" Bruce asked. "If...you want to?"

"Well, obviously I want to brag about my sexy genius boyfriend," Tony said. "I just didn't want you to feel pressured."

Pepper smiled. "See, that's the good news, here. You two are adorable. We just set up some easy little five-minute interview, somebody who will give you absolute softball questions in exchange for an exclusive, and everyone will go nuts."

Bruce was still visibly tense. "Like, I mean...how nuts?"

"We can arrange a security detail for you on campus if reporters get to be a problem," Pepper said. "My hunch is that it won't. They're not going to be able to get in your classes, and I think that, no offense, your day-to-day life is not that interesting."

Bruce shrugged and nodded. "That's fair."

"Excuse you, Bruce's life is thrilling," Tony said.

After a polite pause, Pepper said, "Anyway. Bruce, I think if you were a different type of person—if you wanted to use this chance to, you know, get sponsorship deals and post pictures of new vodka flavors on your Instagram and go on Dancing with the Stars—"

"Please, no," Bruce whispered. Tony snorted.

"—I think it would be pretty easy for you to leverage your connection with Tony and do all of that. But if you _don't_ do that, and if you just keep your head down and keep teaching, people will move on. Like, you know, Hugh Jackman's wife."

"What?" Bruce asked.

"I mean, she's not famous. Sure, she'll go to a red carpet once in a while, but if she just goes out to the store by herself she doesn't get paparazzi tailing her."

"Oh," Bruce said.

"She's very nice," Tony said. "Her name is Deborra, which I believe is Australian for Deborah."

Pepper let out a long sigh and said, "There are...other examples, probably. The point is, a lot of people _want_ the attention. They're out here _fighting_ to be photographed. You're not a public figure on your own, and if you don't want to be one, I think that will hold. And if...it doesn't, we have some very good lawyers on our side."

"I just don't want to cause trouble."

"Hey, Bruce? You didn't. I did," Tony said. "Although JARVIS, really, I think deserves at least 10% of the blame…and _you_ wrapped a ribbon around it, Pepper!"

Pepper rolled her eyes at Tony. She said, "I'll double-check if the university needs you to disclose a relationship."

"It shouldn't," Bruce said. "Since neither of us is a student, nor a supervisor. We're not even in the same department."

"Still, I'll just check, just make sure everything is squared away with their HR department," Pepper said. "Is there anything else we need to consider?"

Bruce squirmed. Tony said, "Has everyone _else_ considered minding their own business?"

Pepper ignored him and said, "Okay, Bruce, if going public is what you want, I'll make some calls. Would you rather a reporter come here or you go to a studio?"

"Um," Bruce said.

"Let's do it here," Tony said. "It'll be more comfortable. And people are always horny for the house, it'll be an added incentive. We can show off the view or whatever."

Bruce nodded. Pepper said, "Okay. Well, we'll probably try to do it tonight, strike while the iron is hot. Is that okay?"

"I mean...yeah, okay," Bruce said. 

"Have a doughnut, Bruce, it's all going to work out," Pepper said. Tony reached for a doughnut and Pepper swatted his hand. "Doughnuts are for people who don't cause media headaches for their beleaguered assistants and their anxious boyfriends."

Tony batted his eyelashes. "Doughnuts aren't for people who _very generously_ funded hundreds of classroom projects for low-income students?"

Pepper let out another sigh. "Okay, fine, but you can't have a jelly-filled one."

"What about sprinkles?" Tony asked.

"I suppose." 

"Yay!" Tony took a chocolate frosted doughnut with rainbow sprinkles. "Bruce? You want one?"

"I think I might throw up," Bruce said.

"Aww, Brucie, it's going to be fine," Tony said, feeling his own appetite take a dip in response to Bruce's pain. "I promise."

"It probably will be fine," Pepper agreed.

" _Pepper_."

"I want to be honest," Pepper said. 

"Okay. But even if it's not fine, we'll _make_ it fine, so it eventually _will_ be fine," Tony said.

Bruce laughed, which was reassuring. But he still didn't take a doughnut.

Pepper said, "I'm going to go get started on this. I'll keep you posted, and in the meantime, let me know if you need anything."

"I could use a jelly-filled doughnut," Tony said.

" _Bruce_ , let me know if you need anything," Pepper said.

"Thanks, Pepper," Bruce whispered.

Pepper came closer to squeeze Bruce's shoulder before leaving. Bruce sagged against Tony. 

Tony stroked his shoulders and said, "Oh, Brucie-bear, I really am sorry about all of this. But it _will_ be fine. And, uh, I guess I should tell you that I do have plans for another part of your birthday present…"

Bruce flinched. Tony said, "But I didn't finalize anything because I realized I wanted to ask, um, how do you feel about Christmas?"

"I absolutely do not want anything for Christmas," Bruce said firmly.

"Well, I figured, but, um, that wasn't the question," Tony said. "Okay, I mean, I guess my real question is, how would you feel about kind of just skipping Christmas?"

"Oh. That would be great," Bruce said with evident relief. "What, do you have a time machine?"

"I didn't really mean _skipping_ it, but maybe if we were out of town and didn't, uh, decorate and do all of that stuff."

"Out of town?" Bruce asked suspiciously.

"Yes. Not too far, or anything, but I thought it might be nice to get away. And I found this place, there's natural hot springs and little cabins you can rent, and there's one called _Hobbit House_ and I thought maybe it would be a nice getaway for a cute little nerd like you."

"Hmm. So where are _you_ going to sleep?"

"I—" Tony started, and then, with relief, he realized Bruce was teasing him. "Well, since I'm obviously very cool and not a nerd, I'll be staying at Lothlorien with the elves."

Bruce laughed, then, and Tony relaxed. "That sounds nice. Maybe you can bring me some lembas bread."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Tony asked, trying to sound suggestive.

Bruised sighed. "Tony, if you wanted to make a euphemism, you'd be better off with an Elvish longbow. Or a sword, but the elves didn't really—"

"—I love you so much," Tony said breathlessly. "I'm going to call Pepper and make it one of our conditions that whatever dumb celebrity journalist talks to us _must_ ask you to list Lord of the Rings facts."

"That doesn't really seem productive."

"Okay, okay, I'll just interview you myself. Mm, tell me about your sword? Is it long and hard?"

"It glows when Orcs are near."

"Kinky!"

Bruce laughed again and Tony kissed his cheek. Bruce said, "I need to leave for class soon."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just have to give a final to my other Physics 101 section. It'll be fine," Bruce said.

"Can we carpool? I can drop you off, and I'll be in my office if...if you need anything? And my robotics students are presenting this afternoon so I need to be there eventually."

Bruce considered for a moment. "Okay. Yeah. Thanks." Then he reached out, took a jelly-filled doughnut, and handed it to Tony. "I won't tell Pepper if you want this. My favorite kind is plain glazed anyway."

Tony smiled and took the doughnut. Bruce nibbled at a glazed doughnut before packing up his laptop for class.

In the car, Tony said, "Bruce, I really am sorry. I feel like being with me has caused you nothing but trouble."

Bruce laughed for so long that he started to wheeze, even though his lungs had been much-improved lately.

"Something funny?" Tony asked.

"Tony, before I was...with you...I was homeless and sick and lonely. My life is immeasurably better with you in it. And now so are the lives of, I don't know, thousands of teachers and students? I love you, Tony, and if that means talking to Ryan Seacrest for five minutes—" 

"—it's _not_ going to be Ryan Seacrest—"

"—or whatever...well, that's...that's worth it. You're worth it."

Tony smiled. "You're just saying that because you want to go to the Hobbit House."

"You got me. This whole thing has just been a long con to get to the Hobbit House. When are we leaving?"

"Friday night? Unless you'd rather wait until Saturday morning."

"Friday night sounds great."

"We just have to get through tonight, and then...do you have any classes on Friday?"

"No, but I'll need to be available for last-minute student questions, and pick up any projects from students who got extensions, and then I have therapy, so I'd rather not be traveling until after 5PM, if that's okay."

Tony nodded. "Of course."

"Where are we going, anyway? I assume not Middle Earth?"

"No, it's a town called Benton...it's about four hours northeast of here, there's some natural hot springs and not much else. It should be quiet." Tony didn't mention that Pepper had booked all of the inn's other vacant rooms and cabins, to ensure their privacy. There were a handful that had already been booked, but it should be pretty sparsely populated.

"Okay. So just to recap, tonight we're going on TV, everything is going to be fine, and then tomorrow we're going to run away to the middle of nowhere?"

"Mm-hmm!" Tony agreed, as he pulled up to the circle drive in front of the science center.

Bruce laughed. "Okay, I guess it sounds like as good a plan as any. Love you."

"Love you too! Come to my office for lunch?"

"See you there," Bruce agreed. He smiled, but didn't lean in to kiss Tony before he left the car. Tony supposed that was fair enough, but he still felt a little bit sulky about it as he drove to the parking lot. When he'd first brought Bruce home with him, it had been like they lived in a bubble. A kind of shitty bubble, inside of which he was nervous about Bruce asphyxiating in his sleep, but at least a bubble where they didn't have to worry about other people. 

Now, though, that was about to change. Tony had grown up with media attention. He didn't mind it. Sometimes he even liked it. But he knew that Bruce felt differently, and he felt awful for making Bruce suffer through even a short moment in the spotlight. But he thought—and hoped—that Pepper was right, that Bruce would be able to be his sweet self and shyly deflect media attention until the next round.

At lunch, Bruce seemed distracted but not completely checked out. He curled up on Tony's office couch when Tony went out to see his student presentations. Maybe it was just because he was grading them, but none of his students asked about his donations in honor of Bruce, for which Tony was thankful.

Bruce grew more visibly anxious on their short drive home, and it only worsened when they went inside to a veritable tinsel explosion. A fire was going in the fireplace, which was decked with stockings. A huge tree had appeared, and there was an arrangement of poinsettias on top of the piano.

"I thought we were skipping Christmas," Bruce said weakly.

"It's for the cameras," Tony said with a shrug. Truthfully, Christmas decorations set him on edge, too, but he wanted to be strong for Bruce. "Pepper got some decorators to come over. They'll clean it up tomorrow if you want." Bruce let out a slightly hysterical laugh. Tony put a hand on his back, between his bony shoulder blades. "Hey, none of this matters, Brucie-bear. It's just...it's just for show. But what we have is real. Don't forget that, okay?"

Bruce took a few shaky breaths. "Right. Okay." But then he took another, deeper, breath and said, "So, what are you going to wear? Like a Santa hat?"

Tony nodded. "Mm-hmm, a Santa hat and a red Speedo, it's my sexy Santa look. But don't worry, I have an elf costume for you."

"Yeah? Mithril armor and a longbow?"

"Nerd," Tony said, and kissed Bruce. Instead, they both got dressed in jeans and casual sweaters—Tony's was crimson, Bruce's the same emerald green he'd worn yesterday (still clean, since he'd only worn it for a few hours). After they dressed, Bruce let Tony put pomade in his curly hair.

A makeup artist arrived; Tony saw the panicked look in Bruce's eyes and intercepted. "Don't take it personally," Tony said cheerfully. "How about if I do him and you can check my work?" She shrugged and nodded, since Tony was the one paying her. "It's okay, Bruce, just so you show up better on camera." Tony dusted Bruce with powder and noticed with satisfaction that Bruce's rapid breathing slowed down when it was Tony tending to him. He smeared some concealer under Bruce's eyes to make it look like he'd slept, and then he stepped back to admire his work. He handed a mirror to Bruce, who frowned. "Okay, now you're a beautiful princess. Isn't he?" Tony asked, addressing the makeup artist.

She smiled. "Cute as a button! Oh, and he blushes. Any chance you could take off your glasses for the interview?"

"I...need them? To see?"

"Well, I had to ask. Now, any objections if I touch you up, Mr. Stark?"

"It's hard to improve on perfection, but go ahead," Tony said. He took over Bruce's chair while Bruce hovered anxiously behind him. When they went back down to the living room, they found it taken over with new lighting and audio-visual equipment. Their interviewer was there, too—Tony had worked with her before. She had a fluffy daytime talk show, a safe place for celebrities to promote their upcoming projects and audience members to receive free sponsored gifts. Tony and Bruce's pre-recorded segment would air the following morning, probably right after an extended yogurt ad. Tony hadn't had occasion to appear on her show before, but he'd met her a few times socially. He was blanking on the woman's name, but he smiled and greeted her warmly. She smiled back at him and introduced herself to Bruce, who managed a smile-like grimace and shook her hand.

Tony held up the pre-show banter while Bruce seemed to be trying to burrow himself through the couch, straight into the ground. Pepper brought them mugs of water, and Bruce wrapped both hands around his like a lifeline. Their interviewer leaned in and said, "Dr. Banner, please, I understand you're nervous, but I'm just here to get some nice footage to make people feel warm and fuzzy for a few minutes, okay? You don't have anything to be afraid of. Try not to think about the cameras, can you pretend like you're just having a nice conversation here with me and my friend Tony?"

Bruce nodded. "Yeah. Please call me Bruce. Sorry. I—I'm just, uh, new, at, uh, this kind of thing."

She gave a practiced, non-threatening smile. "You're new at having nice conversations?"

"Uh…" 

"Don't answer that," Tony muttered. He felt 90% terrible for putting Bruce through this ordeal, but a small, secret 10% pleased to have this undeniable confirmation that Bruce was definitely not with Tony in pursuit of fame. Bruce was clearly here _despite_ Tony's fame, which meant that he just liked Tony himself. And maybe Tony's pillows, but probably mostly Tony himself. Tony reached out and squeezed Bruce's knee.

"Okay," she said. "Let's...why don't we start with an intro. And remember, this isn't live, so we can always cut things out. Tony has final approval on the footage before it goes up."

"Okay," Bruce agreed. 

"Just breathe," Tony said. "Like you tried to teach me."

That brought a smile to Bruce's face, and he managed to look basically human as he and Tony were introduced to the audience at home. "Tony, thank you so much for having me here at your lovely home."

"Of course," Tony said graciously. "We'll come over to your place next time."

She laughed politely. "So, why don't you tell us how you two met?"

Tony was prepared to answer every question that wasn't specifically aimed at Bruce, but to his surprise, Bruce spoke up. "It was at the faculty luncheon at the beginning of the school year. I, uh, I'm vegetarian, and they'd run out of the vegetarian option...but Tony noticed my empty plate and gave me his hummus wrap." Bruce smiled at Tony, then out at the camera, and it looked almost completely natural. Tony exhaled, and he was pretty sure their interviewer did too.

"How sweet! So Tony's been generous to you before?"

Still smiling, Bruce nodded. "Oh, yes, always."

"Can you tell us more about the birthday gift he recently gave you? Happy birthday, by the way."

"Um, thank you, yes. He—well, he'd been asking me what I wanted for my birthday, and I said I'd rather he just donate to charity, because I—I have everything I need."

Tony interrupted, "But _I_ like giving gifts, so I kept nagging him to pick something. You know, most guys, if you offer them a new car, I think they'd say yes, but Bruce said no, his old car is fine. So I told him that whatever I spent on a birthday gift for him, I'd match that same amount in charitable donations."

"So after he said that, I, um, I said that I'd want a Faberge egg, because, uh, it was just the—the most expensive thing I could think of? As a joke," Bruce said, his voice pleading.

"So you didn't really want a Faberge egg?"

"Of course not! What the hell am I going to do with a Faberge egg? Am—can I say 'hell'? Sorry." Bruce covered his mouth with his hand and Tony let out a cackling laugh.

"We'll bleep it." Their interviewer smiled smoothly and leaned in. "Do you know how much the most recently-sold Faberge egg went for at auction?"

Bruce shook his head. "I just kind of heard about them, as, uh, a famously expensive kind of thing. And I thought the more money for charity, the better."

"Well, in 2007, the Rothschild Faberge egg sold at auction for the equivalent of $18.5 million," she explained. "I won't blame you if you want to use another expletive when you hear that."

Tony interjected cheerfully, "But I knew Bruce did not actually want a priceless, bejeweled Russian egg, so instead I spent the equivalent amount on funding projects for school teachers around the country."

"What inspired you to choose that cause?"

"Well, as you know, this year I'm serving as a guest lecturer at Shield University. It's an honor and a privilege to teach these gifted college students, but to be honest, when I started, I didn't really know what I was doing. But Bruce here was so patient and kind, he helped me figure out how best to share my immense knowledge with my students," Tony said, with his most rakish grin. "So he had inspired me to really value the work of teachers, even more than I already did. And working with these college students and hearing their stories, I've really come to understand that not every student in America has the same educational privileges that I had as a young man. So I thought it was only right to try to level the playing field. Also, I thought it would probably make Bruce blush, and he's very cute when he blushes."

Tony glanced over to see that Bruce _was_ blushing but he was trying to cover his face with his hands. Tony reached over and took Bruce's hands in his own. "Am I right?" Tony asked.

Their interviewer smiled. "You're not wrong. So, Bruce, how did this gift make you feel?"

"I, uh, I mean, I think it's pretty messed up that in a country this wealthy, our schools aren't fully-funded, but, well, since they're not, I really am overwhelmed by Tony's generosity. I'm so happy to think of students getting the chance to find a new favorite book or learn something new about the natural world."

The interviewer's smile faded ever-so-slightly as she fought to keep her bland show from getting too political. "Absolutely, anything that promotes literacy is a good thing! Now, can I ask how long you two have been together?"

Bruce and Tony glanced at each other. Pepper had mentioned that this was on the list of vetted questions, and yet Tony was still unprepared. He squeezed Bruce's hand and said, "The first time I asked him out was the first day we met."

"So it was love at first sight?"

"Well, for me it was," Tony said. 

Her eyebrows went up. "Bruce said no?"

"I—I didn't realize you were asking me out, that time," Bruce admitted, glancing up at Tony from beneath his eyelashes. "I mean, I thought Tony was cute, obviously, but I never thought he would be interested in some nerd like me."

"Okay, but the time after that, I was _very_ clear that I'm extremely into nerds like you," Tony said, with a teasing smile. "Honestly, I might have fallen in love with you before first sight, when I read your research papers. He's a genius but not always the most observant."

"I, well, I guess also, I was a little nervous about dating Tony Stark, because, um, I'm a pretty private person, and it seemed like that might lead to me being interviewed on television about my birthday present," Bruce said, gesturing vaguely toward the camera.

"That's a very specific concern," Tony said, smiling at Bruce. He was thrilled to see Bruce's bone-dry, whip-smart humor peek through from under his nervousness.

"Well, and I was right," Bruce said. "But I guess the point when I finally realized that dating him would be worth risking this terrible fate, was, um, in November, just before Thanksgiving."

The interviewer's eyebrows shot up still further as she processed how short Bruce and Tony's relationship really was. "Wow. Well, I think it's safe to say that teachers and students around the country are very grateful that you two got together."

Tony smiled. "Not as grateful as I am."

"Now, I just have one last question. What on earth are you getting him for the holidays?"

Bruce turned and buried his face into Tony's shoulder. Tony put an arm around him and said, with a straight face, "Socks. You can never have too many socks."

Bruce laughed and faced front again, though Tony kept his arm around him. The interviewer laughed obligingly and signed off. She shook their hands, wished them happy holidays, and left. Her crew remained behind, packing up lights and equipment like well-choreographed bees. Bruce remained curled into Tony's side, and Tony didn't feel like moving, either. 

Eventually, all signs of the interview had cleared out, except the lingering Christmas decor. Pepper popped into the room and said, "That was really good! Bruce, you did great!"

"Didn't he?" Tony asked proudly.

"Ugh, it was horrible, how do you do this all the time?" Bruce asked.

"He likes attention," Pepper said, which wasn't exactly untrue.

"I've been doing it since I was a kid," Tony said, which was also true.

Bruce exhaled. "Well...I'm glad you were with me."

"Of course, Brucie," Tony said. "I mean, you wouldn't even have had to do this if not for me, so...it kind of cancels out."

"Probiotics and antibiotics," Bruce said.

"Did you guys eat dinner?" Pepper asked.

"I was too nervous," Bruce said.

"I forgot," Tony said.

"Why don't I order something?"

"You should stay too," Tony said. "Invite Nat." Too late, he glanced at Bruce to see how he might feel about that invitation, but he smiled and nodded his approval.

"Well, I'll see what she says," Pepper said, firing off a text. Almost immediately, she said, "She says she'll come if we can order from Kala Thai and if Tony will open a GOOD bottle of wine. GOOD is in all-caps."

"As if I have any other kind," Tony scoffed. His preferred Thai restaurant was Siam Terrace but he wasn't going to fight about it today. "Bruce? You like Thai food?"

"Love it," Bruce said, and so an undeniably stressful day came to a pleasant close with spicy food and warm company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason the TV interviewer isn't named is because I was basically envisioning her as Ellen but I didn't want to call to mind the Mean Ellen discourse so just imagine like an AU Nice Ellen, I guess? Or the interviewer of your choice, I can't control your imagination ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	21. Education Abroad

Bruce slept restlessly and awoke with an upset stomach, likely caused by the combination of spicy food and anxiety. He quietly slipped out of bed and went down the hall to his own bathroom, to avoid waking Tony up. When he'd finished, it was a little after 5AM. He didn't feel like going back to bed, nor did he feel like committing to going downstairs for breakfast and really starting the day. 

He settled on the couch in his bedroom, which these days he mostly used as a home office. It was nicer than his real office: bigger and more comfortable, and it had its own mini-fridge, microwave, and coffeemaker, remnants of the days when he'd been so sick that he and Tony had basically lived in this room. He opened his laptop and saw that his inbox was still full of requests from reporters. He shut his laptop.

Bruce stood up and tried to do some yoga poses, though the room's plush carpeted floor wasn't ideal for balancing poses. Also, he'd lost some of his flexibility and muscle tone during his long illness. He always told his students that yoga wasn't a competition, that you should listen to your body and do what felt right for you. He'd traditionally shown that he wasn't the best at following his own advice, but this morning he tried it. He ended up just staying in child's pose with his face buried in the carpet for a long stretch of time. He breathed in and out, appreciating the way the posture took pressure off his shoulders, which always tensed up when he was stressed. He appreciated that his lungs were clear and that he could take deep breaths unhindered. 

JARVIS said, "Excuse me, Dr. Banner, but Master Stark is asking if he might enter your quarters?"

Bruce was pretty sure Tony hadn't phrased it quite like that, but he said, "Yeah, of course."

He was still facedown on the carpet when he heard Tony's footsteps approaching him. "Uh oh. Did you melt?"

"Mm. No, I was doing yoga, but then I...stopped doing yoga." Bruce took a deep breath and rose up into a kneeling position. Tony grinned down at him, and Bruce realized too late that kneeling on the floor, when he was still shirtless and in a pair of Tony's sweatpants, gave off a certain sexual connotation. But Bruce wasn't feeling particularly sexy, and it must have shown in his face, because Tony opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and dropped down to his knees beside Bruce.

Tony put a hand on Bruce's shoulders and said, "Hey, lie back down."

"Hmm?"

Tony pushed gently, and Bruce obligingly slid back into child's pose, kneeling with his arms stretched out over his head and his face pressed into the floor. "All the way," Tony said. "Straighten your legs." Bruce lay flat on the floor, and then Tony started rubbing Bruce's shoulders, an intense, skillful massage. "God, Bruce, your shoulders are in knots."

"Mmph…"

Bruce lay quietly for what felt like a long time while Tony rubbed his back. He let out a little sigh when Tony finally stopped. "Feeling better?"

"Uh huh...thanks…you're really good at that." Bruce felt spacey. He drew himself back up to seated and blinked his eyes against the light. 

"Yeah, I'm pretty good with my hands," Tony said smugly. "So, how much better are you feeling? One to five?"

"Uh...four. Do you want, um, me to do you?"

"Another time," Tony said gently. "How about breakfast?"

"Okay," Bruce agreed. He stood up and put on a soft Henley shirt before following Tony down to the kitchen. He started coffee while Tony started toasting bagels. Tony put an everything bagel with cream cheese, Bruce's favorite, on the counter in front of him. Bruce took a few nibbles and stared off into space.

Miserably, Tony asked, "Oh, Bruce, do you want me to call off the interview?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, she hasn't aired it yet, we could have them pull it."

"Oh. No, I mean, unless you think they should? Was it that bad?" Tony had gotten a cut of their interview last night for approval. Bruce had watched three seconds of it and left the room, unable to handle the image of himself on the screen.

Tony smiled. "No, it was good. You come across as your adorable self. But I...I hate to see you this upset."

Bruce swallowed. "Oh. Sorry. It's not...I'm not…" He took a few breaths. "I do want to be with you, Tony, and I understand that part of that is...is this...but I...just would like to be done with it. With this part of it."

"Okay, Brucie-bear, but...well...you do understand that you won't ever really be done with it?" 

On some level, Bruce had known that. If he was being honest, Tony's fame was another reason why he'd been so reluctant to date Tony in the first place. He sighed.

Tony continued, "We'll do our best to keep your media profile low, yes, but you _will_ have a media profile. The only way to prevent it is to keep our whole relationship secret. So, if that's what you want...speak now. Or soon."

Bruce shook his head. "No, I've been thinking about it. I don't think we can keep it secret forever, some students already know and I'm sure word will get out eventually. But even if we _could_ keep it secret...I don't know, I don't want to be stuck in the closet. Uh. Unless you want to be? If—if you'd rather have someone else to bring with you to, uh, parties, and whatever—"

"Bruce! No. No. I just wanted to...I just want to protect you."

Bruce felt something loosen up inside of him. No one had ever said that to him before. "I love you, Tony."

Tony smiled and kissed him. "Well, I love you too, and in a few hours a lot of people are going to know about it."

"What, um, when is it going to air?"

"Well, 10AM Eastern. Over here it will air at 10AM Pacific, but by then the blogs will already be all over it."

Bruce nodded. "I, um, I think I'm going to call my therapist and see if she can squeeze me in earlier."

Tony's face fell. Bruce said, "No, no, really, I'm okay, I just...want to be proactive. And I'm betting a lot of her patients are already out of town so she might have an opening." Tony still looked dismayed, and Bruce said, "Tony, really, if I were handling this badly I would just...shut down."

"You really know how to reassure a guy."

"Tony…"

"It's just a little hard to believe that the guy who wouldn't tell me he was homeless and deathly ill is going to tell me when he's not doing okay, especially when the reason that he's not doing okay is that _I_ wasn't being careful when I made donations in your name. Or, uh, when I instructed my AI to make donations in your name. Technically."

"I...I mean I guess that's fair," Bruce admitted. He chewed his lip for a moment, trying to explain. He could tell that Tony felt awful about all of this, which wasn't fair—Tony had just been trying to give Bruce a nice birthday gift. It wasn't Tony's fault he was dating someone who was such a mess. "This is new to me, you know? Not just the fame. I mean, I can't pretend like the fame wasn't part of why I tried not to date you, at first, but...I'm really glad we are dating. It's just that I'm not really used to being able to...to depend on anyone else. And it's not that I don't trust you...or that I don't want to trust you...it's just...not easy. For me. Even though you're great." Bruce wrapped his arms around himself.

Tony smiled. "Well, as long as you know I'm great. But...let me know how I can help, okay?"

Bruce smiled back. "Thanks. For now, uh, I'm going to call my therapist, and maybe she can help me help you help me?"

Tony snorted, and Bruce made the call. As he'd expected, she had had some cancellations from holiday travelers, and could take him almost immediately. He thanked the receptionist and hung up. "Hey, Tony, you, uh, probably gathered from my end of the conversation, but, uh, I'm going to head into town now for an earlier appointment."

"Do you want me to come with?"

Bruce shook his head. "No, thanks. But, uh, there is something you could do to help me? If you don't mind?"

Tony lit up, eager to help. "Of course, what?"

"I, um, was wondering if you would mind sorting through my work email inbox? I...there are a lot of requests from journalists in there and it's kind of stressing me out to see them? But I need to see the emails from students, so."

"Oh, Bruce, I'm sorry they're bothering you. Yes. I will take care of it."

"Thank you." Bruce retrieved his laptop and logged in. Then he kissed Tony goodbye and drove his ten-year-old Subaru off to therapy, where he discussed the issues inherent in his two-month-old relationship with a famous billionaire. Talking to her made him feel calmer; she always found ways to get him to understand how his own instincts and perspective had become warped over the years. He walked out of her office feeling like maybe Tony really did love him.

On his short drive home, Bruce listened to NPR in his car and caught the tail end of a story about how Stark Industries' stock price had dipped. He wondered what that meant for Tony. Probably Tony would still be rich no matter what. But would something like that help Tony regain control of his company, or hurt his chances? Bruce had never thought he would find himself so invested in the dealings of a Fortune 100 company, but, well, life could be surprising.

When he got home, he found Tony still seated at the kitchen counter with Bruce's laptop. JARVIS was playing loud music, although the volume lowered when Bruce said, "Hey, Tony." 

Tony looked up, a distracted expression on his face. "Hey, Bruce. How'd it go? Are you prepared to face the trials and tribulations of dating me?"

Bruce smiled. "Yeah, I think I'll survive." But Tony didn't seem amused, and after a pause, Bruce said, "Hey, uh, Tony...are _you_ okay?" He slid into the stool next to Tony.

"Hmm? Yeah, fine."

"Are you sure? Um...did something happen, with, uh, SI?"

"What? Recently?"

"I don't know, I just heard something about it on NPR on the way home."

Tony shrugged. "I mean, nothing new, I don't think."

"Okay. You just...I thought maybe you were upset about something."

"Oh...well...look, I wasn't trying to snoop, but, you _asked_ me to go through your emails," Tony said. Bruce's blood ran cold although he had no idea what Tony might even have found that was incriminating. He was pretty sure that Tony already knew all of Bruce's dirtiest secrets. Tony said, "And, well, Amalia from the University of North Carolina wrote to thank you for your application but to let you know that they'd moved on to candidates who were a better fit for their program."

"Oh." Bruce exhaled. "Well, it was nice of her to let me know, usually they just ghost applicants, and you don't find out about it until you hear who they hired."

Tony blinked and bobbled his head. This clearly was not the response he had expected. "Well, okay, first of all, they're obviously extremely stupid for not hiring you. But Bruce, when were you going to tell me that you applied for a job in North Carolina? Three thousand miles away?"

"Oh. Oh!" Bruce had briefly forgotten that Tony wasn't really an academic. "Sorry, Tony, I applied for all those jobs months ago. Before we were...before. And honestly, I didn't expect to hear back from any of them until after winter break. The academic hiring cycle is _ridiculous_."

"Oh. Okay. But—wait, _all those jobs_? How many did you apply for? Are the others at least at like, UCLA and Caltech? USC? I don't know, UC Irvine? Does Harvey Mudd have a physics department?" Tony asked, naming other institutions within a 30-mile radius of his house.

"Uh...I applied pretty much anywhere with an opening that I was qualified for?" Bruce ran his fingers through his hair. "When you don't have tenure it's kind of just like throwing a bunch of spaghetti at the wall and seeing what sticks. And you have to be prepared to relocate."

"So you're not even going to try to stay at Shield?" Tony sounded hurt. 

"Well...it doesn't work that way, Tony. I knew when I took this job it was just a one-year appointment. I'm just filling in while Dr. Selvig is on sabbatical. He'll be back in the fall and he'll want his job back."

"But you're such a good teacher!"

"Well, thank you for that, but...numbers-wise, it doesn't matter."

"It didn't seem like it was that hard for me to get a job."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "You're _Tony Stark_. Your name gets students in the door. Of course they'll make exceptions for you. The rest of us have to play by the rules."

Tony flinched, and Bruce realized that his words had come out more sharply than he had meant them to; this wasn't the conversation Bruce had expected to be having, and he felt off-center. "Look, Tony, I'm sorry I didn't mention it earlier. I really wasn't trying to keep it from you, it's just, you know, kind of a given in academia."

"It's just that I thought we talked about you coming to work with me."

"Well… _you_ talked about it, but I...I told you I wasn't sure. I'm still not sure, Tony. I love you, but I also love my job."

"But your job doesn't love _you_ , Bruce," Tony blurted out. "They don't pay you enough, they make you work yourself to the point of exhaustion and then there's not even a chance of them promoting you?"

Bruce sighed. "Yeah, it's a racket. Anyway, don't worry, I haven't made _any_ progress on my personal research this year, so I'm not going to be anywhere near publishing anything by the spring semester, so I'm not going to get hired anywhere."

"Hmm. Love to be your last choice."

"You didn't even make me a real job offer! You just said 'come work with me after I get control of my company back from my dad's evil best friend'! I don't even...are we really fighting about this right now?"

"No. Of course not," Tony said firmly. He reached over and squeezed Bruce's hand, a lopsided smile on his face. "Sorry. I...by the way, my new therapist taught me about 'I' statements! _I_ was just feeling...insecure, when I saw that email in your inbox. And I was feeling guilty about the whole media spectacle of it all. And I...am sorry. And I...um, I'm not sure how to make this one into an I statement, but hopefully you won't mind, when I say that you're right, I haven't made you a formal job offer. And I will get to work on that."

Bruce smiled. "Thank you, Tony. _I_ love you. And _I_ am sorry that I hurt you. And _I_ don't want to leave you. It's just been...it's all been a lot to take in, I guess, and I've been feeling overwhelmed, and I'm used to being locked into the academic hiring cycle. But I don't blame you for wanting me to change that."

"Wow, that was so healthy," Tony said. "I feel...better? That seems fake."

Bruce laughed. "I know what you mean. It's weird when therapy helps...I used to think I was too smart for those little tricks to work on me. But it turns out...I'm not."

"Hmm. I definitely am, but I just coincidentally also feel better now," Tony said, a wry smile on his lips. 

"Wow, what are the odds?"

"Never tell me the odds!" Tony crowed.

Still laughing, Bruce felt so giddy with relief at how the conversation had gone that he'd managed to briefly forget that across the country, hundreds?—Thousands? How many people watched that show, anyway?—of people were watching video footage of Bruce and Tony confessing their love to each other. 

Tony said, "Oh, there was one other email that I thought about deleting but I decided I'd leave up to you. Here, take a look."

Bruce laughed as he read Amadeus's email:

_Dr. Banner,_

_Some reporter asked me if I could tell her anything about you and Tony Stark. Would you mind if I told her something boring and nice, like how you guys always eat lunch together or how he made sure I knew it was your birthday? Normally I'd tell her to fuck off but she said she'd pay me $500 and honestly I could use the money. But if you don't want me to, no worries._

Still laughing, Bruce said, "I don't mind if he tells them that."

Tony nodded. "Me, neither, but tell him to ask for $1000."

Bruce snorted and fired off a quick response to Amadeus.

Tony asked, "So...up for some Tetris?"

"Yes!" 

They moved to the living room couch, where they began their solemn virtual combat. If Bruce was using his phone for Tetris, he couldn't use it to check email or the news. And if he was trying to beat Tony, he couldn't devote much of his brain power to anything besides Tetris. It was a very good distraction, and he was grateful to Tony for suggesting it.

But a person could only play so much Tetris before their eyes and wrists started to complain. Tony asked, "You ready for lunch?"

Bruce wasn't really hungry, but he was ready to stop playing Tetris, so he said, "Sure. What are you in the mood for?"

"You were winning at Tetris, so you get to pick."

"I was winning at Tetris, so I don't have to pick," Bruce countered. "But...let's see what's in the kitchen."

"We could order…"

"But if we're going out of town we should try to use up some groceries."

Tony scrunched up his nose, but he followed Bruce to the kitchen. Tony messed around on his phone while Bruce chopped up random vegetables for a salad. Halfway through the bell pepper, Tony said, "Babe, I don't want to alarm you, but we're trending."

Bruce looked up from his cutting board. Tony was grinning, and Bruce said, "Is that a good thing?"

"They're calling us #ScienceBoyfriends," Tony said. "People _love_ you."

Now Bruce scrunched his nose. "Why?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Listen to these tweets. 'Bruce Banner is a beautiful cinnamon roll, too pure for this world.' 'Bruce Banner must be protected at all costs.' 'RT if you think Bruce Banner deserves a Faberge egg.' That one has 50,000 retweets already! Ha, but 'RT if you think Bruce Banner should be allowed to swear on daytime network television' has 65,000 retweets.'"

"I...I don't get it. Are they making fun of me?" Maybe he should have waited until later in the day to have his therapy appointment after all. 

" _Brucie_. No way. These are sincere, wholesome tweets about my sincere, wholesome science boyfriend. Look, there are GIFs of you!"

Bruce cautiously glanced at Tony's phone, then back down at the cutting board. Again he asked, "Why?" In his head, he tried his best to channel his therapist, reminding himself that often the simplest explanation was true: that when people said they liked Bruce, it was because they liked Bruce.

"Bruce! Because you're smart and sweet and adorable and it's completely fucking obvious to everyone but you."

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows. "How many people watch that show?"

"I mean, a lot, but the clip itself is online. A lot more people watched just our interview than the full episode."

Bruce exhaled. This was what they'd said would happen. This was why they'd gone on TV, to get it all over with. But somehow, privately, he'd still maintained a hope that once people had gotten over the excitement of Tony's charitable donations, no one would notice or care that Tony was dating some nerdy little professor who didn't even have an Instagram account.

Tony came to stand behind Bruce, resting his chin on Bruce's shoulder. "Hey. Sorry if this freaks you out. But really, it's sweet. Your selflessness is making a lot of people happy right now."

" _You're_ the one who made the donations."

"Yeah, but you're the one who wanted that as a gift. A lot of other people would have just taken the new car."

"My car is fine, though—"

"—Bruce, I know that you think that, and I'm not here to re-litigate the car. I'm just saying. You deserve a lot of credit here and I'm glad you're getting it. I hope it doesn't stress you out too much, but for today, you're the internet's favorite and I think that's something to celebrate."

"Well...I guess I'd rather be this than the internet's least favorite?" Bruce bit his lip. He couldn't help but ask, "Is, um, that's it, though? Nobody's saying...worse things?"

Tony hummed. "Aw, Bruce, probably _someone_ is on some corner of the internet. But I'm not going to seek those out, and neither should you. All the most popular comments are very positive, and that's rare enough as it is."

"Huh. Well...okay," Bruce said. He gently squirmed out of Tony's embrace and started peeling carrots.

"I can see that fame is going straight to your head," Tony said dryly.

Bruce nodded. "I'm going to be impossible to live with after this."

"I think I'm up for the challenge," Tony replied with a grin.

Bruce mixed some olive oil and vinegar and served the salad, which he and Tony both picked at with low levels of enthusiasm. Bruce still felt too anxious to eat much, and Tony would have preferred a hamburger, though he made an effort to eat some vegetables. Still, despite Bruce's efforts to avoid food waste, most of the salad ended up in the compost bin.

After they cleaned up from lunch, Tony asked, "More Tetris?"

"Hm...no, thanks, I think I'm going to check in on my email. Thanks again for cleaning it up for me."

"Of course. Oh, and, I set up some filters to hopefully keep those kinds of things from getting through to you. Anything from a shield.edu address will get to you, but stuff from outside senders with certain keywords will skip your inbox and get forwarded to Pepper. She can always send it back to you if it turns out to be something you'd need to answer. She's very prompt about that kind of thing."

"Oh, wow. Thanks."

"Anytime. I mean, hopefully not actually anytime because this one should hold up for awhile, but...uh...anytime."

"So, I think I'm going to go back up to my room and try to get some work done, and I'll pack for our trip? Anything I should bring?"

"I've already got plenty of condoms and lube in my bag," Tony said promptly. "But then, I guess it doesn't hurt to have extras…"

Bruce laughed. "Okay, um, good to know. I meant more like, clothes?"

"The hot springs are clothing optional," Tony said with a smirk. "But Pepper got you some swim trunks anyway, I think they're in my bag. Um...I don't know, it gets cold in the mountains at night? If you didn't know? So bring a sweater or something. But if you forget, I'll be happy to warm you up."

Bruce ducked his head. "Okay. Thanks, Tony. So, I guess we could leave around five? I need to drop by campus and pick up the last batch of assignments to grade, and then we could hit the road from there? Unless you have anything else to do?"

Tony shook his head. "My students are all sending me stuff digitally so I can leave whenever."

Instinctively, Bruce wanted to apologize for making Tony wait to leave. But he needed to pick up his students' assignments, and Tony didn't seem bothered. So Bruce gave Tony a kiss and went upstairs to get some work done. He checked his email, replied to everyone who needed a reply, and then settled in to start grading final exams. He'd been afraid that he might be too distracted to work on this, but it turned out that his brain was happy to have a concrete task to focus on. He made his way through a sizable stack of exams by the time JARVIS alerted him that Tony was requesting entry.

"Come in," Bruce called, and JARVIS opened the door. Bruce looked at his phone and said, "Oh, I completely lost track of time, sorry. I haven't packed yet."

"That's okay, we're not in a hurry," Tony said. "We can leave in the morning, if you want."

"No, no, I know you made reservations for tonight, and I...yeah, it'll be nice to get out of town." Bruce packed up his laptop and ungraded exams, then pulled his battered suitcase out of his closet and started picking out clothes, including the green sweater he'd worn for dinner and the interview. He hadn't worn it for a full day, so it still counted as clean.

"That's an awful lot of clothes considering I was hoping we'd spend most of the week naked," Tony said.

"Oh, I—I can put some back?"

Tony half-smiled and shook his head. "Pack what makes you comfortable. I'm just teasing. I mean, I'm serious about hoping to see you naked, but...not if you don't want to."

Bruce kissed Tony and then put another clean sweater in his suitcase. "Just in case," he said, and zipped it up.

"Okay, now just one more important question: what kind of road trip snacks do you like?"

"Road trip? I thought you said it was like four hours away."

"That counts as a road trip!"

Bruce could feel his face contorting into a skeptical expression against his will. "Any kind of snack is fine for a four-hour drive."

"Well, how long do you think a road trip has to be?"

"I don't know. Long enough that you have to stay the night somewhere along the way, I guess."

"We're staying the night somewhere!"

"At our destination." Bruce really didn't want to fight about this, so he added, "But it'll be fun, though! What snacks do you want?"

"Hmm. Maybe Cheetos? I haven't had Cheetos in a while." Bruce fought to keep his face non-judgmental, but he failed. Tony added, "What? You don't like Cheetos?"

"They're fine, but they're bad in the car, because you get the cheese powder on the steering wheel and everything."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess."

Bruce felt guilty for bringing Tony down with his practicality. "Look, we don't have to decide right now. Why don't we just stop at a gas station or something and see what looks good?" 

Tony cheered up. "Yeah!"

They took their bags down to Tony's sleek electric car—a practical choice, all things considered—and Bruce breezed through a nearly-deserted campus to clear out his mailbox. He kept his head down, afraid that someone might recognize him from the internet, but everyone had already gone on to their winter break destinations. He sighed with relief as he made it back to Tony's car unscathed.

They stopped for snacks at a 7/11, since Tony's electric car didn't actually need gas. Inside, they weren't quite so lucky as Bruce had been on campus—a couple of college-aged girls politely asked if they could take a selfie. Tony smiled and obliged, and then they'd made it clear that they'd actually meant both Bruce and Tony. Bruce nervously posed with them, and the resultant picture looked more like they'd crashed Bruce's mugshot. But the girls seemed pleased with their photo, and they giggled and said, "We love you guys," before bounding out of the gas station. 

"You okay?" Tony asked.

"Yeah, they were nice, it's just….weird. How do you feel about Chex Mix?"

Tony grinned. "Chex Mix is good." He plucked a bag of Bold Chex Mix off the shelf. Bruce usually got Original, but he was open to new experiences. Bruce glanced around the 7/11 and grabbed a package of baby wipes.

Tony said, "Sorry, is someone else joining us? Not that I'm opposed to babies, just—"

Bruce laughed and shook his head. "If you want Cheetos, you should have them. And then use these to clean the orange powder off your fingers. "

"You're a genius!"

Bruce rolled his eyes and grabbed a VitaminWater. Tony got more coffee. They checked out, took a selfie with the cashier (who was thankfully only interested in Tony), and hit the road.

Tony said, "This is my first road trip!"

"Really? But you love cars."

"I guess I mostly travel for business and it's just more efficient to fly," Tony said ruefully. "But I've always loved the _idea_ of a road trip. What about you?"

"I've traveled a lot by car. But usually more by necessity than for fun. I mean, I drove here from Iowa but I didn't really make any fun stops on the way, so I don't know if that counts as a road trip either. I think in grad school my...ex-girlfriend and I kind of took a road trip to upstate New York to visit her parents…"

"You went to grad school in Virginia, right?"

"Yeah, Culver University. It was like an eight-hour trip, each way."

"How was the trip?"

"Um...the trip itself was fine. Nice, even, we got to see a lot of fall foliage."

"Aww, _fall foliage_ ," Tony said. 

"It was beautiful," Bruce said wistfully. "But the destination was...rough."

"How so?"

"Her dad was just…" Bruce trailed off for a moment before decisively declaring, "A dick."

Tony laughed. "Sorry. It's just...you're usually so nice about everyone."

"Calling him a dick _is_ being nice."

"Well. Then I'm sorry you had to take a roadtrip to his house. Is that why she's your _ex_ -girlfriend?"

"No. Yeah. Kinda?" Bruce took a sip of VitaminWater. "I mean, he hated me, but I think...I hated myself more. At that time. So when he would say stuff about how I didn't deserve to be with Betty, I agreed. And she—she did try to stick up for me, but in the end, she was outnumbered."

"Lucky for you, my parents are dead," Tony said drily.

Bruce laughed. "Lucky us!" His laughing was starting to get a little manic.

"Hey. Sorry," Tony said. "If that was...inappropriate."

"No, no," Bruce said. "It...that was a long time ago. I have had...a lot of therapy since then."

"Okay, but...you did say something pretty similar like, three weeks ago. So, just for the record, you know that's fucked up, right? You know you deserve to be happy?"

Bruce crossed his arms. "I was feverish." Truthfully, he still wasn't sure he deserved either happiness or Tony, but he knew enough not to say so out loud. Maybe "deserve" wasn't the right word for this context, anyway. He seemed to _have_ Tony, and Tony seemed happy enough to be with him, and maybe that was enough? 

Tony laughed. "Anyway, if anything, my dad would probably say I'm not good enough for _you_ , so at least I wouldn't be outnumbered."

"What? Why would he say that?"

"I wasn't...I...my dad was old school and he had this whole thing about pulling himself up from his bootstraps, which I obviously didn't do. But whose fault was that?"

"Well, I didn't get very far with my own bootstraps."

"You worked your way through grad school! You're a college professor!"

"An _adjunct_ professor with research that nobody understands or cares about, who, until very recently, was homeless?"

"Still, he'd be hard-pressed to call _you_ a useless, spoiled, brat."

"Tony! He called you that?"

Tony shrugged. "He wasn't wrong."

"He _was_ wrong," Bruce said. "Fuck your dad!"

Tony laughed. "And fuck _your_ dad! And fuck your ex-girlfriend's dad!"

They both laughed. Tony turned up the music louder as they loudly ate their crunchy snacks. He kept driving northeast on winding mountain roads, which made it feel more like a road trip even if it was a relatively short distance. And when they got there, they wouldn't have to worry about what any of their dads thought, or what _anyone_ thought besides the two of them.


	22. Observational Astronomy

The night clerk at the Inn at Benton Springs, whose name was Dave, didn't seem at all impressed by Tony and Bruce, for which Tony was grateful. Dave pressed an actual metal key into Tony's hand, along with a sheet of paper with information about the WiFi and local attractions. 

Dave pointed out the Hobbit House to them, though it was fairly obvious given its cute, squat shape compared to the other guest houses. The inn itself had ten rooms in the main building, and then there were a handful of free-standing guest houses on the outskirts of the inn's property. The inn and its surrounding town were nestled at the eastern foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains, close enough to have breathtaking scenery but flat enough to also have a good view of the sky, earning it its place on the list Tony had found when he'd googled "California best places stargazing."

Bruce and Tony went back to the car for their luggage and set out on foot for Hobbit House. Tony unlocked the door and considered their lodgings. It certainly wasn't the nicest place he'd ever stayed, but then, he was pretty sure that Bruce would be overwhelmed by one of the suites Tony usually stayed at. It was...quaint, vaguely Southwestern in decor, and relatively private. It had a bedroom, a living room with a fireplace, a kitchenette and—its main selling point aside from the name "Hobbit House"—its own private (clothing-optional) hot tub, fed by a natural hot spring. 

He turned to Bruce and asked, "Is this okay?"

Bruce beamed. "It's great. It's a great road trip, Tony. How did you find this place?"

Tony smiled back. "Well, I knew a trip to see the Northern Lights wasn't advisable right now, so I just looked up good places in California for stargazing. This place came up, and then I saw that they had this Hobbit House, and it just felt...right. Also did I mention the clothing optional hot tub?"

"You did. Want to check that out?"

"Well, yeah, of course. You're not too tired?"

"I've got a little bit left in the tank. And we can sleep in tomorrow…"

Tony set down his suitcase and immediately began stripping off his clothes. Bruce watched for a moment, then sought out robes from the bedroom closet before taking off his own clothes. They put on flip-flops and stepped outside the back door.

Tony shivered as the cool night air hit his skin and he set off toward their small, fenced in hot tub at a jog. Bruce followed behind him. Tony immediately shed his robe and climbed right in the steaming water. Bruce glanced around to make sure no one was in sight, then dipped a hand in the tub before disrobing and joining Tony.

Once he was in the water, Bruce moaned, "Oh my god. This is amazing. You can see _so_ many stars here."

Tony sighed, though this was what he'd looked for on Bruce's behalf. "Really? You're worked up about the _stars_ , not the hot springs? Not the naked boyfriend?"

"Sorry. The whole situation is amazing," Bruce said contritely. 

"It's okay, I guess there are a lot of stars to compete with," Tony said. He dutifully took a moment to contemplate the stars and the surrounding scenery; there was snow on the mountains above them but thankfully no snow at their elevation. After he grew bored with that, he slid closer to Bruce and started nuzzling at his throat. "Just for the record, whenever you're finished stargazing, I'm available, for...whatever else you might want to do." He gently nibbled Bruce's earlobe. "But I don't want to distract you, so I'll just wait patiently until you're done," he concluded, as he sucked a small hickey above Bruce's collarbone.

Bruce gasped and laughed and carefully took off his glasses. He set them on the edge of the hot tub and turned his full attention on Tony. Being there, in the steamy water with his steamy boyfriend, Tony felt sure that he'd made the right choice for a vacation.

But later that night, when Bruce was sound asleep beneath a Southwestern patterned quilt and Tony was wide awake, he started to have second thoughts about the trip. Normally, when Tony couldn't sleep, he buried himself in work. But his workshop was four hours away. This place didn't have enough connectivity for Tony to get much help from JARVIS. He supposed he could work on grading his students' final projects, but he wasn't in the mood for that kind of distraction. 

He settled on the couch in their small living room. The couch could fold out into a bed and as a result, it wasn't an especially comfortable couch. It was probably even less comfortable as a bed. Tony sighed when he remembered that Bruce had been sleeping in his car for months without complaint. Tony really was a spoiled brat sometimes, even if he stood by his belief that that was his parents' fault. If they hadn't wanted him to appreciate the finer things in life, they should have had a shitty couch like this in their mansion. But they hadn't, and now Tony couldn't sit on the couch without being acutely aware of where the folding steel bed frame poked out the back.

Tony rearranged some throw pillows until he could find a moderately comfortable position, and then he went online and googled himself. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Bruce that the reaction to their interview had been overwhelmingly positive, particularly with regards to Bruce. If things went well, it seemed possible that Tony's relationship with Bruce might do more to rehabilitate Tony's public image than any of his work at Shield or with charity.

There was some public curiosity about Bruce, of course. A few gossip blogs had already put together their posts on the "Top 5 Things You Need To Know About Tony Stark's New Boyfriend, Bruce Banner!" Fortunately, they didn't know what to do with Bruce. One of the things on the list was, "He wears glasses!" Another was, "We found a link to read his PhD thesis here, but it seems like you have to be a genius like Tony Stark to understand what the heck he's talking about!" None of them had dug deeply enough into Bruce's past to be worrisome.

But there _were_ negative responses, and Tony decided to spend his night reading them all. Some of them were so familiar they were barely a blip on Tony's self-loathing—"Who the fuck cares what Tony Stark does with his parents' money?" and "Eat the rich" and "Remind me why this is news?" 

There were a few nice comments about how it was nice to see positive LGBTQ+ representation in STEM fields, which Tony saved to show Bruce in the morning. But those were followed up with some generic homophobic trolling as well as some more pointed comments like, "LOL, a billionaire getting a new boytoy does _not_ count as positive queer representation." Tony decided not to show that one to Bruce, although it was pretty hilarious that anyone would call Bruce a "boytoy."

One magazine's "body language expert" noted how comfortable Bruce and Tony seemed together. Tony took a minute to smile at the screencaps from the interview that accompanied that piece, showing Bruce shyly turning his face into Tony's chest while Tony wrapped a protective arm around him. But just a click away was a competing "expert" who used the same frames to showcase how Bruce was "obviously terrified" of Tony, and how Tony's body language was aggressive and controlling. It was so stupid. Tony should really stop reading this garbage.

Tony kept reading and saw a small contingent of "Protect Bruce Banner" posts that were worried that Tony was using Bruce for publicity and would cast him aside when he was no longer helpful to Tony. Tony snorted at those; if only they had any idea how hard Tony was _trying_ to protect Bruce Banner. 

Like poking a sore tooth with his tongue to see if it still hurt, Tony kept reading. He ended up on the capslock-heavy corner of the internet that still worshipped WWII war hero Howard Stark, who were furious that Tony hadn't publicly observed the anniversary of his parents' deaths on the 16th. "It's great that Tony Stark can donate his parents' money to his boyfriend's charity, but can't make the time to remember ONE OF OUR HEROES." Tony rolled his eyes. These people never seemed to remember that two people had died in that car accident. But Maria Stark, Howard's much-younger trophy wife, wasn't valued by them. 

It was true that for the last eleven years, Tony had always made a point of visiting their graves in New York on the 16th, dropping off fresh flowers and glad-handing with the veterans who showed up. That Tony hadn't gone this year had less to do with Bruce and more with his academic schedule. Even if he wasn't as dedicated to his job as Bruce was, December 16th was in the midst of finals week and a bad time to fly all the way across the country. Tony had remembered the anniversary, _obviously_. And frankly, he thought his mother, at least, would have appreciated the donation to public schools more than the graveside ceremony. Why did these people think Tony owed them a public spectacle of grief, anyway?

Those people didn't know what Tony's life was like. They didn't know the first thing about him, not really. And maybe that was for the best; Tony found it easier to play a part for his public image, rather than let everyone see the gaping wounds just under his surface. He mentally drafted and rejected a thousand responses to these people, but he knew it was pointless. There wasn't anything he could do to change their minds.

He kept reading for hours, just wallowing in negativity. He did find some more measured complaints, some that actually made sense to him—the idea that donating money to fund individual class projects like Tony had was really just a Band-Aid over a bigger wound, that with the kind of money Tony had, he could easily target the bigger systemic problems. He took a moment to think about that, to read more information about America's failing public schools. But he was too tired and miserable to think about a solution to that right now, so he went back to the gossip blogs.

Eventually, Bruce padded out to the living room. He was wearing soft flannel pajama pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, and his curly hair was in complete disarray. He looked sleepy and perfect. He stood facing Tony from the doorframe and asked, "Hey, Tony, is everything okay?"

"Fine," Tony said, but it came out sounding a little strangled. Bruce's eyebrows furrowed with concern. He sat down next to Tony on the couch. Tony said, "I thought you were going to sleep in today. It's like five in the morning."

Bruce shrugged. "I woke up and saw that you weren't in bed, so I came out to see what you were up to. I can always take a nap later."

"I'm fine," Tony said. It came out a little easier that time; he was well-practiced at saying he was fine when he really was the opposite of fine. "I just probably shouldn't have had so much coffee on the drive out."

"That's a first. Breaking news: Tony Stark admits he had too much coffee," Bruce said teasingly. Tony grimaced at the tabloid-style phrasing, and Bruce said, "Seriously, Tony, what's wrong?"

And because Tony was so tired, and because Bruce's voice was so gentle, Tony said, "I—I miss my mom." He turned and buried his face in Bruce's chest, and Bruce rubbed his back.

"Oh, Tony, of course you do," Bruce said, in his soft, low, yoga teacher voice. "This time of year is especially hard, isn't it? I really do wish we could just fast forward through Christmas."

Tony nodded against Bruce. "It's not just Christmas...the 16th was the anniversary of her death. Of my parents' deaths."

"Tony! I'm so sorry, I wish I had known. Anniversaries like that are so hard."

"It's okay," Tony said automatically. "I didn't tell you, I...it's been 12 years now, I was hoping to maybe just get through it, but…"

"It's been 15 years since...since my mom died, and...and everything...and I still have a hard time with that day," Bruce said. "I probably always will."

"When is it?" Tony asked. He hoped he'd remember to tell JARVIS. Actually, JARVIS probably already knew, it must have been in the articles Tony had looked up about Bruce's parents. Tony wished he could be better about remembering important dates but his brain just couldn't hold onto facts like that; they immediately disappeared into the rushing riptide of his thoughts, swept away while Tony tried to grab onto the next idea as it floated by.

"It was in October. October 10th," Bruce said softly.

Tony sighed. Bruce had gone through it alone already this year, and Tony hadn't even known. He felt a fresh burst of self-loathing rise up, despite the fact that Tony had no way of knowing these things if Bruce didn't tell him. "I'm sorry," he said, without specifying what exactly he was sorry for.

"Me too," Bruce said. "Do you want to talk about it? About your mom, or...or anything?"

Tony thought about it. His first impulse was to say "no," but instead he said, "My mom would have loved you. I wish you could have met her."

"My mom would have loved you, too," Bruce said warmly. "I think, in a way...you have met her, a little bit. Through knowing me. I think we carry them with us. When I bake things...that's from my mom. She was quiet like me. My eyes are my mom's."

"That's...beautiful," Tony said. "I...I don't know. I don't think I'm very much like my mom. I'm more like my dad but I wish I weren't."

Bruce hummed. "What was your mom like? I know before you said she was pretty stuck under your father's thumb, but what was she like without him?"

Tony thought about that for a moment. Sometimes he worried that his memories of her were fading. "She always saw the best in people. Whenever I'd try to complain about my dad, she'd always kind of deflect it and make excuses for him, which was annoying. But she did it for everyone, and she did it for me. Even when I'd do objectively dumb stuff like get kicked out of boarding school for drinking, she'd be like, 'Oh, Anthony is such a social creature, and it was lovely of him to share with his friends,'" Tony remembered with a laugh. "She was a good hostess, whenever we had our big parties she always went around and made sure everyone was having a good time."

"See?" Bruce said. "That sounds like you. _You_ always see the best in people. _You're_ a great host."

"I...I guess," Tony said. He didn't usually think about himself like that.

Bruce said, "How about if I tell you things I love about you and you tell me if it came from your mom?"

Tony squirmed. He felt guilty about making Bruce reassure him when surely Bruce was the one who deserved more help than Tony did. "You don't have to—"

Bruce cut him off and said, "I love how excited you get about giving gifts."

"My mom was like that," Tony admitted. He remembered how much she'd loved Christmas.

"I love that you're willing to change your mind when you learn something new."

Tony thought about it. "I think my mom was like that...I don't know. She didn't...she didn't get to express her own opinions that often."

"Well, I'm glad that you can," Bruce said. He thought for a moment and continued, "I love that you aren't jaded."

"Yes, I am." 

"No, I mean, maybe you are about some things, but big picture you still believe that the world can be better. You haven't given up."

"I...I guess. Yeah. I think that was what she liked about my dad actually. And I guess I have to give credit to Howard—"

"—you don't have to. If you don't want to."

"Well, just between you and me, I think that was what he was like, too. Big picture, anyway."

"Hmm. Well, I love that even though you have your eye on the big picture, you still make time for the small stuff."

"Wait, do I?" Tony had definitely been known to lose himself in his work for days on end.

"You dropped everything to take me to the hospital."

"Oh. Well, that's because I love you, and you were going to bleed to death."

Bruce laughed. "I really wasn't." Tony sat up for a moment so he could grab Bruce's right hand and look at it. He was shocked to see that it was almost completely healed, with only a faint scar that probably wouldn't have been noticeable if he didn't know what he was looking for. He ran his thumb over Bruce's palm. "See?" Bruce asked. "But...I love that you took care of me."

"That was my mom," Tony said. "My dad always thought I needed to toughen up, but my mom would always baby me, she'd sing to me or give me a Band-Aid or whatever dumb kid thing I wanted." He leaned back into Bruce's chest after that confession.

"That doesn't sound like 'babying' you, Tony, I think that just sounds like being a parent," Bruce said, though he didn't sound totally confident.

"Oh. I guess."

Bruce pressed a kiss to Tony's forehead. "I love you," he said simply. "And I'm sorry for your loss."

"Same," Tony replied. For a while, they just sat quietly together. Tony could hear Bruce's heartbeat and his steady breathing.

Then Bruce said, "Why don't we go watch the sunrise?" Tony gave a small grumble, and Bruce said, "Just out back. Did you see we have a little porch swing?"

Tony had not, in fact, noticed that detail, but he let Bruce lead him back through the house, pausing to grab the quilt off their bed. They wrapped it around themselves as a shield against the cool morning air and snuggled up on the porch swing.

Tony said, "They like, never wash hotel blankets, you know. Only the sheets. That blanket is probably disgusting."

Bruce hummed and said, "We'll just have to wash off in the hot springs, then."

Tony nodded. "That sounds good." They sat quietly and watched the sun come up over the mountains. Tony didn't feel the need to fill the air with chatter, and he didn't think about the internet at all. Maybe there was something to be said for the concept of vacation after all?

But after the sun came up and they had a leisurely room service breakfast, Bruce pulled exams out of his bag and started grading.

"Green Bean, I thought we were on vacation?" 

Bruce winced. "Oh, sorry, did you want to do something else?"

"Not specifically, I guess. Just...vacation? Grades aren't due for a couple weeks, right? I was going to wait and do mine after we got back." 

"It's just that I feel so anxious about needing to do it...I'll be more relaxed after I finish my grading."

"You're so responsible," Tony huffed. He settled on the couch next to Bruce but didn't pick up his laptop.

"It's just eating the frog," Bruce said.

"I thought you were vegetarian."

Bruce laughed. "No, it's that saying, if you eat a frog first thing in the morning, nothing worse will happen to you that day? People say Mark Twain said it but he didn't really. But that's not the point."

"That's fucked up," Tony said, after a moment of reflection.

"People attribute _everything_ to Mark Twain," Bruce said. "Or Shakespeare."

"No, not that. I just mean, bad things can happen any time. No matter what you eat for breakfast."

"Oh. Well, yeah, for sure," Bruce agreed. "But mostly people use it to mean more like, get the most unpleasant thing off your to-do list first, and then you don't have to dread it all day. It's not supposed to be a preventative measure."

"Counterpoint...if you put everything off to the last minute, there's a chance that things will change and you won't have to do it ever?"

"Well, you can give that a try," Bruce said. "But I'm pretty sure that, barring the absolute end of the world, these grades will still need to be turned in by January 4th."

Tony sighed dramatically and picked up his laptop. He graded one project before getting up to make more coffee. He paced around the small Hobbit House and then flopped back down, resting his head on Bruce's lap. Bruce stroked his hair. "You want to take a nap, Tony? I don't think you got any sleep last night."

"No. Yeah. I don't know." He sighed. He knew he was being annoying but he couldn't stop. "I'm sorry, I just…"

"I can take a break if you want to go out to the hot tub for awhile?"

"Yeah. Okay. Sorry. I'm just...restless, I guess."

"Do you want to take a walk instead? I saw there are some trails nearby."

"Hmm...no. I don't know. I guess I'm just feeling...anxious," Tony said. "But that's stupid."

"Tony, it's not stupid. For starters, I don't think you've slept at all for what, like, thirty-six hours now? And you're grieving, and it's a hard time of year, and we're in a new place—"

"—okay, yeah, maybe," Tony said. He took a shaky breath.

Bruce tilted his head and said, "Hey, come sit with me." He settled on the floor, sitting cross-legged and looking out the sliding glass doors at the mountains. Tony followed him. Bruce said, "Normally, I'd ask you to close your eyes, but I don't think we should waste this view."

"Okay, sure, I can keep my eyes open."

Bruce gently talked Tony through a meditative breathing sequence. Tony was pretty sure it was just the effect Bruce's voice had on him, but he definitely felt better at the end of it.

"You're really good at that," Tony said.

"Thanks. I'm going to try to get back into teaching at Valhalla next month. You're welcome to come with."

"Can't I get private lessons?"

Bruce smiled. "Of course."

Tony smiled back. "Want to get in the hot tub? Or do you need to get back to work?"

"Oh...we're on vacation, work can wait," Bruce said. He stripped off his pajamas and put on his robe, and Tony followed suit. They soaked outside until they were both pruny, at which point they came in and quickly rinsed off in the shower. Bruce had some kind of essential oil-scented lotion in an unmarked bottle that he applied and offered to Tony.

"Hmm. It smells nice," Tony said.

"Val gave it to me when I was sick, she sells it at the studio. She says it has healing properties but I think it mostly just smells nice."

After they were dry and moisturized, Bruce apologetically got back to work on his grading. Tony flopped on the couch; it was much more comfortable when he could use Bruce as a pillow, and he drifted off to sleep on Bruce's lap while Bruce balanced his laptop on top of Tony's shoulder.

Tony had booked the Hobbit House for a week, and their first night there, he'd grown nervous that he would get bored there too quickly. He had his laptop, but he wouldn't have access to his workshop or any of his more hands-on projects. But once they'd finished their grading, Tony found that he liked being on vacation. At least, he liked being on vacation with Bruce. It was nice to have time to just _be_ together.

The inn really was in the middle of nowhere, but they took a day trip to Bishop, a medium-sized town about an hour away. The town was decked out with Christmas lights but it wasn't too crowded. They ate lunch at a little cafe and popped into a small bookstore. A handful of people were in there for last-minute gifts, but they seemed too rushed to notice Bruce and Tony. Bruce browsed happily, and Tony watched him. Once the small crowd cleared out, a cashier asked Tony if he was looking for anything in particular.

Tony said, "No...er, actually, do you have the _Lord of the Rings_?"

"Do you mean _The Fellowship of the Rings_ or are you looking for the full trilogy?"

Tony took a measured breath and managed not to call her a nerd. She didn't actually know him and it wouldn't come across as friendly teasing, the way Bruce would take it. "The whole trilogy, I guess."

"Okay, in that case, we have this box set, or a bound volume of all three in one, or these movie tie-in editions…" Tony blinked at them. 

"I'll take the box set, thanks."

"Anything else?"

Tony took a copy of _The Hobbit_ off the shelf and then turned and called, "Hey, Bruce? Did you find anything you want?"

"Oh...I can't decide." Bruce was frowning at one book and had a small stack accumulating on top of one of the lower shelves.

"Just get all of them," Tony said. Bruce hesitated, and Tony added, "You read fast, and you can put them in the Little Free Library on campus when you're done with them."

The cashier smiled at him. "Oh, I like you," she said cheerfully. "Did anyone ever tell you you look like Tony Stark?"

Tony smiled back. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

Bruce brought his stack of books up to the register and Tony put down his credit card. The cashier looked at the books and said, "You have good taste!" And then she looked at the card and said, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark!"

"For...what?"

"I, um, I didn't recognize you? I didn't mean to offend you."

Tony smiled. "It was nice. No worries."

She licked her lips. "Could I take a picture of you guys? Not for—I mean—it's just, um, hard for bookstores to stay in business these days, and it would be cool to share it on our social media."

Tony thought for a moment. "How about if I post a picture after we're back home? I'm happy to help but, to be honest, I don't really want to blow up our spot while we're still here."

"Oh. Oh, no, yeah, totally, but that would be great."

"Then, c'mere," Tony said. He beckoned her to come around the counter and held out his phone. "You, too," he said to Bruce, who sighed and held his stack of books up over his face, with only his eyes and curly hair peeking out. Tony laughed and snapped a few shots of the three of them. "What was your name?" 

"Um, Pearl, like the thing oysters puke up."

"Well, thank you Pearl, you have been very helpful, and I solemnly swear that I will post this picture of Spellbinder Books when I'm back home."

"Thank you so much! Happy holidays!" 

Back in the car, Tony said, "Was that okay?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, no, it was nice of you."

"It's just—I shouldn't have assumed you'd want to be in the picture."

"You can barely see my face in it anyway. And, um, I like bookstores."

"Okay. Well, you can always say no. I know it's a...I know it's weird."

"Yeah. Well, I don't usually...I don't have many pictures of myself."

"I don't have many pictures of you, either," Tony said. "We should fix that. I—I don't have to post them, but we should take some pictures together."

"Not while you're driving. Safety first."

Tony let out a long sigh. "No. Not while I'm driving. But when we get back to the Hobbit House."

"Okay. Sure," Bruce agreed. And when they got back, Tony held Bruce to his word, making him pose with the mountains in the background, and again when Bruce flopped on the couch with one of his new books. Tony flopped next to him with his new copy of _The Fellowship of the Ring._

"This isn't your first time reading that, is it?" Bruce asked.

"No, I read them when I was kid, but it's been awhile. Thought I might re-read them...since we're on vacation and all. I dunno, I kind of got out of the habit of reading as an adult. For fun, anyway, I still read research journals and stuff."

"Mm. I hope you enjoy it."

And, snuggled up next to Bruce on a couch that wasn't really _that _uncomfortable, Tony found that he did enjoy revisiting Middle Earth.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Hobbit House at Benton Hot Springs](https://www.bentonhotsprings.us/Accommodations/HobbitHouse.html) is real and I found it the same way Tony describes, by googling "best places stargazing California" and ceasing my search the second my eyes laid upon the words "Hobbit House." I've never been there and I made up some details I wanted it to have, because at the end of the day, I'm writing a pleasant fanfiction and not a travel guide.
> 
> Also, ["eating the frog"](https://www.briantracy.com/blog/time-management/the-truth-about-frogs/) is a real time management technique, although there's no record of Mark Twain ever saying or writing that phrase.


	23. Advanced Family Dynamics

The hotel manager had warned guests that the hotel's kitchen would be closed on Christmas Day, so Bruce and Tony had stocked up on some groceries in the nearest small town. Their rental house's kitchenette had even fewer kitchen implements than Tony's house, so Bruce decided to keep things simple and bake cinnamon rolls from a can.

"The internet will love this," Tony said with delight. "Cinnamon rolls from my little cinnamon roll."

Bruce rolled his eyes. Tony took a picture—just of the pan of rolls, not of Bruce himself. Tony said, "Sorry, do you not want me to post it?"

"They're just from a can. Maybe post if I bake something actually impressive?"

"They're not burned! That's an accomplishment," Tony said. "I take your point, but...can I take a picture of you holding a cinnamon roll? Just for me." 

Bruce sighed, but he held up a cinnamon roll and smiled at Tony. Tony smiled back and took a picture.

"That's my new lock screen," he said happily. He tapped at his phone a few times before pocketing it. "Anyway, I know you didn't make these from scratch but they're still really good."

Bruce nodded. "My mom always used to make these on Christmas morning." After he said it, he was surprised to realize the statement caused him no pain. It was a fact: she used to bake cinnamon rolls from a can on Christmas. "She used to let me squeeze the frosting." Another fact; this one made him feel a little bit happier to remember.

Tony gave him a probing look, and smiled when he found that Bruce didn't look particularly upset. "I bet you were great at it."

Bruce smiled back. "I wasn't bad." He thought about asking Tony what his family used to eat on Christmas morning, but he remembered Tony's desire to skip Christmas, so he didn't ask. Tony could share if he felt like it. 

Bruce had been a little nervous that Tony would surprise him with another uncomfortably expensive gift, but, to Bruce's relief, Tony really did seem set on skipping Christmas. After they ate their cinnamon rolls and refilled their coffee cups, Bruce started a fire in the living room fireplace. They settled in and read their books quietly together. At some point, Tony slipped into the bedroom to take a phone call. Bruce kept reading.

When Tony came back, he said, "Rhodey says merry Christmas. And that you looked good on TV."

"Oh! Um, I'd tell you to say merry Christmas back from me, but I guess...you are not on the phone with him anymore?"

Tony smiled. "You are a genius," he said lightly. Then he took a deep breath and said, "That first Christmas after my parents died, Rhodey found out I was planning to go back to an empty house and he insisted that I come home with him. He and his family took me in and they were so, so kind to me and I was such a little brat."

Bruce blinked. "Tony, you were grieving. I'm sure they understood."

"They did, which just made me feel worse."

"Did you—did you skip going to Christmas with his family to be here with me?"

"I mean...kinda. He did invite both of us—I declined on your behalf, I hope that's okay." Bruce nodded, and Tony continued, "I just—I know they would have loved to meet you, but I thought it might be a little overwhelming, even before, uh...before you became the internet's cinnamon roll."

"Why?" Bruce hoped Tony didn't think he was racist. That probably wasn't it? Maybe his meltdown at Thanksgiving had led Tony to conclude that Bruce was incapable of handling any gathering of more than two people, which was not totally incorrect. But he didn't want Tony to miss out on time with his friends and family on Bruce's account.

"Oh, just because you're...kinda shy," Tony said politely. "And he has a big extended family. And they're great but it's just a lot of energy. And—and I knew he was bringing his new girlfriend home and I...I don't know, it just would have been, uh, a lot."

Bruce rubbed Tony's back. "Well, this has been a great trip. But I hope...I hope you don't regret it?" 

"No! No, not at all. I just...I don't know. I wanted us to have something new. But I didn't want to...I didn't know how to do Christmas, I guess."

"I think we can do whatever we want for Christmas."

"Did you have any traditions you miss?" Tony asked.

Bruce sighed. "The cinnamon rolls? I guess...my mom used to take me to midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. And I liked it because my dad never wanted to go, so it was just the two of us, and there were candles and music and everything."

Tony's eyes widened. "Oh shit, did you want to go to church? I just assumed...you wouldn't. But I could have asked."

"Oh, no, no, I haven't been in years. I just went with my mom. I...no."

"Okay. Good." Bruce wasn't sure if this conversation was over. He thought about picking his book back up, but then Tony asked, "What about after?"

"Huh?"

"What have you been doing for Christmas? As, uh, an orphan?" Bruce hesitated, and Tony added, "Sorry, it's okay if you don't want to talk about it. I'm nosy."

"It's okay. I, well, the first Christmas after my parents...after, I was still in a mental hospital. We had a little tree and some songs...I remember they had ham for dinner. It was supposed to be a special treat but the smell of it made me feel sick so I went to bed early."

"Sorry, Green Bean," Tony said. He pulled Bruce against him.

"It's okay," Bruce said again. "After that, um, after I got out, I...they tried to put me into my aunt's care but I petitioned to be emancipated, and so I went off to college early. And I'd always just stay on campus for breaks, there was usually some kind of meal on campus for international students and kids who couldn't go home. It was...actually, kind of like this but way shittier, I'd mostly just stay in my room and read."

"Aww, Bruce."

Tony sounded sad, and Bruce was hit with the familiar sensation of being the person who's bringing down the mood. This was why he tried not to talk too much. But maybe Tony shouldn't ask depressing questions if he didn't want depressing answers. 

Still, Bruce hurried to add, "No, it's—it's okay. I guess it sounds bad but I didn't mind it. I wasn't lonely. Or I knew there were worse things than being lonely. Or I thought I deserved to be lonely?" Bruce tried to make sense of it as he talked. "And then when I started dating Betty...well, like I said, that trip to her family did not go well, so when she wanted to go home for Christmas, I said I'd just stay on campus, and she said that was depressing, and...anyway, this is better." 

"This is better," Tony agreed. "Maybe next year we can...I don't know. Decorate more or something."

Bruce's heart fluttered just a bit at the idea of a _next year_ , and he realized, too late, that Tony had wanted a response.

Tony said, "Or we could skip it again...we can figure it out later."

"Okay," Bruce agreed. "That sounds good."

"What about New Year's Eve?"

Bruce's stomach churned. He said, "Oh, I don't...I'll probably be in bed before midnight. You should go out with your friends if you want to." He had mostly recovered from pneumonia, but fatigue still plagued him. Also: he did not want to go to a New Year's Eve party.

Tony laughed. "Okay, Cinderella," he said easily.

And then Bruce felt bad. "Sorry, I mean, I...I don't want to be the reason why you miss out on stuff."

"Bruce, you're not. Most of those parties I used to go to were honestly boring, just a lot of schmoozing and tiny plates of food I don't even like. I'd rather be with you."

"Oh." Bruce managed to stop himself from asking _why_.

Tony kissed Bruce's cheek. "I'm going to go make lunch."

"Oh? Do you want some help?" Bruce asked, hoping he didn't sound too skeptical.

"Nope, I got this."

And moments later, Tony returned from the kitchenette with a plate of cheese and crackers. "See? I didn't fuck it up," he said proudly.

"It's perfect," Bruce agreed.

The last few days of their stay at the Hobbit House passed in a similarly low-key fashion. Bruce wasn't sure he'd ever felt so relaxed in his life. Still, he was happy when they checked out. Tony hadn't complained, but Bruce could tell that he was missing his high tech home. And Bruce would be relieved as well to get back into his normal routine.

And for a little while, they did just that. Bruce and Tony both submitted their final grades for the fall semester and got settled into their spring semester classes. Bruce started teaching a few classes back at Valhalla Wellness, and every night he came home to Tony's beautiful house. As Tony had predicted, the public's interest in Bruce as a public figure began to wane as Bruce steadily avoided more media attention. (Tony did post a couple of pictures of Bruce to his social media, including the one from the bookstore they'd visited on vacation, which resulted in a BuzzFeed list of all the titles Bruce had picked out. Apparently Tony's pictures of Bruce received a lot of "likes" and comments, but since Bruce didn't have any of his own social media accounts, these didn't really affect his life too much.) On campus, he occasionally saw students snap pictures of him or point him out to their friends, but the vast majority of them ignored him. Even if they knew who he was, they simply couldn't understand the fuss being made over a boring nerd like their professor.

Bruce's low profile was undoubtedly aided by Tony's increased dedication to working on the food replicator project. They rarely went out for dinner or anything beyond their Tuesday/Thursday taco lunch dates. Even if paparazzi had been interested in following them around, they simply never went out. Which was fine with Bruce, really, even if he wished Tony might surface from the workshop a little more often. The only other time Tony reliably left his workshop was for his weekly therapy sessions.

But then, a few weeks into the semester, Bruce received a request for a phone interview for a position he'd applied for at Yale. He cycled through several reactions: excitement (it was a tenure track position at an Ivy League school!); anxiety (he'd have to talk about himself on the phone!); resignation (he'd never get this job anyway, so what was the point!); and finally, fear (he'd have to talk to Tony about this!)

Tony had been so hurt in December when he'd found out that Bruce had applied for other jobs. Bruce had soothed him by explaining that he'd had to apply for all the jobs earlier in the academic year, but they'd left unresolved the issue of what might happen if Bruce _did_ get a job offer. 

Bruce didn't want to hurt Tony. He didn't really want to leave Tony, either. But there didn’t seem to have been any progress with Tony regaining control of his company, and anyway, he just wasn't sure if he was ready to completely throw his academic career out the window just yet. 

(He knew, of course, that if he stayed with Tony he wouldn't actually need to have any job to get by, but that thought made him feel deeply uncomfortable. _Of course_ his relationship with Tony was completely different from the relationship between Bruce's parents, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that if his mother had been financially independent, maybe she could have left her husband before it was too late. He didn't believe that Tony would ever hurt him, but all the same, even if he wasn't sure he wanted to stick with academia, he also wasn't sure he was ready to give up his career and become financially dependent on Tony.)

Maybe he didn't have to tell Tony? It was just a phone interview. They probably wouldn't call him in for an in person interview. Why bother hurting Tony's feelings over something that probably wouldn't amount to anything?

The idea weighed on him throughout his morning class session, and he decided that he didn't need to tell Tony. But when he walked in Tony's office door, Tony immediately said, "Hey, Brucie-bear, what's wrong?"

Bruce sighed. Either his poker face had gotten worse, or Tony had gotten to know him better. Either way, he might as well let the cat out of the bag. "Um, I have a phone interview for a job at Yale."

"Oh. Are you...going to take it?" Tony asked casually. Too casually.

"It's just an interview, not a job offer. I probably won't even get asked for an on campus interview. I mean, it's a tenure track position at Yale. It's going to be stiff competition."

"Yeah, but you're _Bruce Banner,_ " Tony said, as if that meant anything. "So...when they offer you the job, are you going to take it?"

Bruce couldn't help but laugh, a little, and then he felt bad when Tony looked hurt. "Oh, Tony, sorry. Thank you for believing in me, really. I don't think that they will. But if they did offer it...I don't know. It's all just hypothetical at this point. How was your morning?"

Tony gave Bruce a lingering, wounded stare before letting Bruce change the topic of conversation. Bruce felt miserable. Tony had given him so much; why was it so hard for Bruce to do something that would make Tony so happy? _Just a tiny little thing like throw his whole career out the window…_

Bruce felt selfish when he scheduled the phone interview, and once the day came, he was sure it went terribly. Phone interviews were so awkward anyway, even when he wasn't preoccupied with the thought of hurting his boyfriend's feelings. But at least it was over with.

All week after the phone interview, he kept anxiously checking his inbox for a reply, and he really wasn't sure what news he hoped to get. On one hand—it would be a dream job, and he'd be flattered to know they liked him, even if he didn't end up taking it. But on the other hand, if they said no, it would mean Bruce wouldn't have to actively make a decision that might hurt Tony. 

But before he heard from Yale, he got an apologetic email from Pepper: _Bruce, SO sorry, this ended up in my inbox because of the filter Tony put on your email, but it was filtered to low priority so it's been in here for a couple of days. But I think it's genuine so I'm passing it on for you, if you'd like to reply. Again, very sorry for the delay!_

He'd assumed it would be an offer from one of the other jobs he'd applied for, but instead, it was from the Law Offices of Jennifer Walters, PLLC. Bruce briefly wondered if his cousin was suing him, but he took a deep breath and read the message.

_Dear Bruce,_

_Hi. It's me, your cousin Jen? I completely understand if you don't want to hear from me, so feel free to delete this without replying. I'd deserve that. But I'd love to hear from you if you have it in your heart to forgive me._

_I saw the clip of you with Tony Stark. I couldn't stop thinking about how good it was to see you and I finally decided to just look you up and try to reach out. I'm _thrilled_ to see you looking so happy. You deserve it. Every day of my life I've felt awful that my parents and I didn't do more to help you and Rebecca. I completely understand why you cut us off after what happened, and that's your right._

_But I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, and I miss you, and I hope you really are as happy as you looked on TV. If you ever want to talk to me, I'm attaching my contact information._

_Love,_

_Jen  
_

Bruce blinked back confused tears. Jen thought _he_ cut _her_ off? He'd only been trying to protect Jen and her parents from his own monstrous self. As he re-read her email, some of his years of therapy kicked in and suggested that perhaps Bruce had not correctly interpreted everything that was going on around him when he was a traumatized teen. He tentatively tried out that idea, that maybe he still had some family members who were alive and wanted to talk to him? Who still loved him, even?

He took a deep breath. Thank god he already had therapy scheduled for that afternoon. He decided he'd wait until after his appointment to reply to her. The email had already been stuck in Pepper's inbox for a few days, it might as well wait a little longer.

At therapy, he rehashed Jen's email and explained why he'd just assumed that he'd be better off on his own than with Jen and his Aunt Elaine and Uncle Morris, or rather, why he assumed they'd be better off without him. He started to cry as he realized he could have had family for all these years, that he'd only sabotaged himself and hurt his loved ones' feelings.

His therapist reassured him that he'd made the best choice he knew how to make at the time, and that the best thing he could do would be to learn and move forward, not dwell on the past. It all sounded good, but...acting on it was something else entirely.

And they spent so long talking about Jen and her parents that Bruce didn't even have time to bring up the Yale interview.

Bruce felt wrung out and fragile by the time he got home from therapy. Tony was hard at work in his workshop, and he didn't look up when Bruce came in. This wasn't out of the ordinary; Tony had been really on his grind since they'd gotten back from vacation, determined to finish a prototype that would help him get his company back. 

Sometimes Bruce helped, but he was busy too, with his bigger courseload, not to mention his meditation classes. He'd thought about giving up his classes at Valhalla Wellness, since access to the locker room there was no longer such a perk. But yoga and meditation really did help his anxiety, and he liked not only being able to share that with his students there, but also being forced to carve time out of his schedule for his practice. If his students hadn't been expecting him, it would have been easy to blow off meditation some days.

And anyway, for all that Tony said he loved working with Bruce, sometimes he was so in the zone that he didn't invite interruptions, not even when Bruce brought food out to him. So Bruce decided to leave him be, and he went upstairs to his bedroom/office, where he opened up a reply to Jen's email. He typed, "Dear Jen," and stared off into space, remembering the genuinely good times they'd had together as kids, bright stars in the darkness of his childhood memories. 

He'd lost track of time when JARVIS announced Tony's presence. "Oh, of course, let him in," Bruce said. He didn't think he'd locked the door, but Tony had programmed JARVIS to respect Bruce's space.

Tony came in with a cheese plate and a bottle of champagne. "Hey, Brucie-bear. Sorry I didn't hear you come in earlier...but I thought...we should celebrate?"

"What?"

"Your interview earlier this week. I...I'm proud of you, and I'm sorry if I was being a dick about it." Suddenly overwhelmed, Bruce burst into tears. He hadn't realized how badly he'd wanted to hear that. Tony set down the cheese and champagne and pulled Bruce into a hug. "Oh, god, I'm sorry. Oh, no, was I really _that_ bad? I know it's been a few days, but I was just busy, and then I realized it's Friday, and..." he trailed off and rubbed Bruce's back.

Bruce sniffed. "There's just a lot going on right now," he finally managed. "And I just...miss you."

"Miss me? We live together."

"I know." Bruce felt silly admitting that sometimes he missed being sick. Not that he missed the actual illness, of course...physically he'd never felt worse than when he'd had pneumonia. But emotionally...Tony had been so attentive, always by Bruce's side. But he'd known even then that Tony was busy, that he had better things to do than be with Bruce.

"Okay...uh...do you want to talk about it?" Tony asked, gently rubbing Bruce's back.

It took Bruce a little while to get his stupid tears under control, but he finally managed to spit out the basics of everything with Jen.

"But Bruce, that's great, isn't it?" 

"I guess so. It's just been so long..."

"Do you want to meet with her?" Bruce bit his lip, unsure of his answer, and Tony said, "Would you want me to come with you? I'm sure we could set something up."

"Really? You're not...too busy?"

"Bruce. If it would help you for me to be with you, I'd love to go. But it's okay if you'd rather connect with her on your own. Or if you don't want to go, you don't have to." Bruce thought about it. Tony said, "And you don't have to decide anything right now. Do you want to eat some cheese and think about it?"

"Yeah," Bruce agreed gratefully. 

Tony opened the champagne and poured two glasses. "Let's toast."

"To what?"

"To my brilliant boyfriend, Bruce," Tony said.

Bruce managed a shaky smile. He raised his glass and said, "To my thoughtful, generous boyfriend Tony."

They clinked glasses and Bruce took a small sip. He still didn't like to drink often, but sometimes he enjoyed the ritual of a nice drink like this. Sometimes he also liked the way it fuzzed out the edges of things, just a little bit. He'd learned enough about himself to know that he wouldn't get blackout drunk like his father used to. He wouldn't hurt anyone, at least not physically. But maybe he'd been hurting Tony by not trying harder to help him out with his food replicator project? By considering other job offers? Maybe he should have spent more nights sleeping on the workshop couch. Maybe Tony felt as abandoned as Bruce did.

He took some more sips, and said, "Tony, I'm sorry."

"Huh? For what?" asked Tony, who hadn't been following Bruce's thought spiral.

"Just...I know I don't always...communicate," Bruce managed. "But I really do love you. A...a lot."

Tony laughed and kissed Bruce's cheek. "I know." 

After eating his fill of cheese, Bruce said, "I'm going to write back to Jen and tell her that I want to see her. I...I think it'll be good to see her."

"Good!" Tony said. Then he furrowed his eyebrows. "But maybe don't send it until tomorrow morning?"

"Hmm?"

"Just...sometimes drunk emails can be regrettable, is all."

"I'm not drunk, I had like, half a glass of champagne."

"But you're _such_ a lightweight," Tony said fondly.

"I...fine," Bruce said. "I'll draft it."

"I'm proud of you," Tony said.

Bruce scoffed. "For what, writing an email under the influence?"

"For opening up. For getting that job interview. For...I'm just proud of you. Can't I say that?"

"I guess you can." Bruce smiled shyly at Tony. Then he pulled out his laptop and wrote,

_Jen,_

_It's really great to hear from you. I'm glad you reached out. It took me a little while (and a chat with my therapist) to understand what you meant by your email. I didn't realize you thought I had cut you off or didn't want to hear from you, though now I understand why you thought that._

_I thought I was protecting you and your parents by keeping myself away from you, but I'm beginning to understand that maybe that wasn't the case. I'm sorry for any distress that caused you._

_Yes, I'm very happy with Tony. It's been like a very weird fairy tale. I hope you are happy, too._

_I would love to reconnect with you. I have missed you._

_Love,_

_Bruce_

He spent a long time agonizing over each word of the short message, while Tony curled up against him and read emails on his phone. Finally, he asked Tony, "Do you want to look at this?"

Tony read it and said, "Did you really spend an hour writing like three sentences?"

"I wanted it to sound...good?"

"It sounds great."

"I'll send it tomorrow."

"I don't think this is the kind of drunk email you need to worry about. You could probably send it now if you want."

"I'm not drunk!" Bruce said. "But I'll wait. Just...in case." He saved it to his drafts and shut his laptop.

"Hmm. So if you're not drunk, I'm not taking advantage of you, right?" Tony asked, leaning in close to Bruce's face.

Bruce laughed and kissed him. "I'm a consenting adult," he affirmed.

"Excellent," Tony purred. "Want to write another chapter in our 'very weird fairy tale'?" For a pleasant while, the only thing Bruce could think about was the way Tony's body felt against his. But when he woke up in the morning, he was alone, and he wasn't sure if it was because Tony had gotten up early or because Tony had never gone to bed in the first place. Before going downstairs to find out, Bruce re-read the email he'd drafted to Jen and sent it.

He went downstairs and found Tony in the workshop with a manic gleam in his eye. He wasn't working with any dangerous equipment for the moment so Bruce slipped behind him and rested his head on Tony's shoulder.

"Hey Jolly Green!" Tony said cheerfully.

"Tony, did you ever come to bed last night?"

"You don't remember? I thought we both came in bed."

Bruce ignored the innuendo. "I mean, have you slept?"

Tony made an ambivalent humming sound. "I _have_ slept, for sure."

"But you didn't sleep last night?"

"I have a lot I need to do!"

Bruce gently kissed Tony's cheek. "I just worry about you."

"Nothing to worry about. Is there more coffee? No, wait, let me try something!" He tapped some buttons on his prototype, stuck a mug under it, and watched expectantly as the mug slowly filled with a brownish liquid.

Bruce raised his eyebrows. "You got the food replicator working?"

Tony wiggled his hand in an ambivalent gesture. He took a sip of liquid and immediately spit it back out. "Ugh. No."

"Wait, is that safe?"

"I don't think it's poison. I'm like 95% sure it's not poison. It just tastes _terrible_."

Bruce took pity on Tony and went to brew a fresh pot of actual coffee. Tony took a big gulp and said, "Ah, yeah. This is what coffee is meant to taste like. But we'll get this working! Together!"

"Okay," Bruce said. "Show me how it's working now?" He could use the distraction; otherwise he'd keep refreshing his email to see if Jen had replied. They worked together for hours, tweaking the prototype and triple-checking their math, but they never succeeded in getting a decent cup of coffee out of it. Finally, Bruce insisted on an actual meal break.

They spent the rest of the weekend in a similar grind, working for hours on end before pausing for sandwiches. (Sandwiches made the old-fashioned way, in the kitchen, rather than generated by a high-powered rearrangement of molecules, because the stuff that came out of the food replicator still tasted awful.) Bruce was glad he'd recovered from pneumonia; it meant he could more or less keep up with Tony. 

Still, he wished they could get to the bottom of the food replicator problem. He wished he could help Tony get his company back, and he wished Tony might go back to spending a little more time with him outside the workshop. It had been weeks since they'd watched an episode of Great British Bake Off.

On Monday, two interesting things arrived in Bruce's inbox: an invitation for an on-campus interview at Yale, and an open invitation to meet Jen any time. That night he came home and tentatively shared his news, over the dinner break he forced Tony to take. 

After the slightest pause, Tony said, "That's great! So when are you going to meet her?"

"Well...New Haven is only about an hour and a half from New York, so I was thinking I might just kill two birds with one stone, so to speak."

Tony's smile dipped, almost imperceptibly. "So you're going to the interview?"

Bruce shrugged. "I really don't think it will come to anything, but...yeah, I'd like to go see the campus. And I don't want to burn any bridges."

"Okay, right," Tony said. "Well...do you want me to come with you?"

Bruce bit his lip. He'd been thinking about Tony's offer. At first he'd liked the idea of having Tony by his side, but then he started thinking about logistics—Yale would arrange for Bruce's travel, but if Tony came, he'd almost certainly want to take his private plane, and then Bruce would have to explain _that_ to Yale...not to mention the carbon footprint. And he knew that Tony didn't really want him to go to this interview, and he suspected greater proximity would lead to greater anxiety.

But the only reason he gave aloud was, "Yeah, I...I'd love for you to meet Jen one day, if this goes well, but I think our first meeting should be just the two of us. And I know how busy you are. But I'll tell you all about it afterward?"

"Yeah, of course," Tony said. He gave a fairly convincing smile.

"How was your day?" Bruce asked.

"Oh...just getting frustrated with this project. I feel like we're so _close_ to being done with it but we've been stalled out at around 95% complete for _weeks_. I mean, technically, it does produce a food-like product that could sustain human life...but it still all tastes so bad, I don't think even starving people would want it."

It was very generous of Tony to use "we" for the project, when it was mostly Tony. Bruce said, "Tony, this is the kind of project that would take another team _years_ to finish. This is...this is science fiction."

"But it's so close to being science fact! And you're a good cook, so I know you'll be able to fix it!" 

Bruce smiled. He really did love Tony's pure belief in innovation, not to mention his confidence in Bruce. "If you want to go back to work, I'll bring you some dessert later."

"Ooh, _dessert_?" Tony's eyes widened.

"I got some lemons at the farmer's market, I was going to make some lemon tarts."

"Oh, nice. But then can we have sex after?"

Bruce laughed. "If you're a good boy."

Tony kissed Bruce's cheek. "The best," he said, and set off for his workshop. Bruce started his baking project. The work calmed him, as had Tony's response. Tony wasn't mad at Bruce; he was just caught up in his work. That was understandable, wasn't it?

Once he got his tarts in the oven—he'd been using store-bought crust so it wasn't a hugely ambitious project—he accepted the invitation to interview at Yale, made the necessary arrangements for the day of class he'd have to miss, and sent a tentative itinerary to Jen. He wished he had something else to bake while he waited, but instead he played a few solo rounds of Tetris on his phone. It wasn't as much fun as playing against Tony, but it was better than being alone with his thoughts. He took the shells out of the oven, added the filling, and put them back in to bake again, then played another round of Tetris.

When the tarts were finished, he put a few on a plate and brought them out to the workshop. As usual, Tony was wrapped up in his work. Bruce slid the plate into Tony's field of vision, and Tony looked up with a smile, a real smile.

"How's it going?" Bruce asked.

"No closer to getting the food replicator to make anything like _this_ ," Tony said, taking a bite of tart. "God, it's good."

After they finished eating, they gave each other lemon-flavored kisses and thoroughly defiled the workshop couch. But Tony stayed in the workshop when Bruce went up to bed. The rest of the week followed a similar pattern: Tony was physically around. He'd show up for their usual lunch dates and could occasionally be tempted out of the workshop for dinner and/or sex, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. Bruce understood, but couldn't help but feel a little bit rejected, even though Tony gave him a shiny new carry-on bag for his flight. He was starting to look forward to his trip to the East Coast, if only for a change of scenery. Plus, he'd video chatted with Jen and was even more excited to see her in person.

When the time came for Bruce to leave, Tony did insist on dropping him off at the airport, which was sweet. He gave Bruce a lengthy goodbye kiss and promised to pick him up on his return. Bruce was nervous the whole flight, and wished he'd thought to get some extra Ambien for the hours on the plane. He tried to focus on his job talk, the presentation he'd have to make as part of his interview, but his brain was mush. He flicked through the available in-flight entertainment and tried watching some new cooking show competition, but it was much more stressful than the Great British Bake Off, so he turned it off halfway through and flipped through both the in-flight magazine and an issue of _The Economist_ someone had abandoned in the seat back compartment.

Because of the time zone changes, it was very late when he arrived at the Hartford International Airport, and then he had to wait for a student shuttle driver to pick him up and drive him an hour to New Haven. The student asked if Tony Stark would move to New Haven if Bruce got the job, and Bruce had to count to twenty before answering, to make sure his response didn't come out as a scream.

But finally, he got checked into his hotel. He sent Tony a quick text: _Made it here safe, going to pass out now. Love you._ He set an alarm, put his phone on Do Not Disturb, and did just that.

In the morning, he awoke to a volley of texts from Tony, a stream-of-consciousness array of messages wishing Bruce luck, telling Bruce he missed him, asking Bruce technical questions, then responding that never mind, Tony had figured it out already, and finally ending with, _I guess you're asleep, good night._

Bruce showered and got dressed in the interview suit Tony had insisted on giving him. He took a mirror selfie and sent it to Tony, who didn't reply—it was still early on the West Coast, and maybe Tony had actually fallen asleep. Bruce hoped that was the case; he did worry a little bit about Tony's ability to take care of himself over the weekend. On some level he knew that was silly; Tony was a grown man who'd been fine before he met Bruce, but still.

But Bruce pushed Tony out of his mind when a student guide picked him up at his hotel to give him a guided tour of campus before his job talk and interview. Despite the frosty air, Yale's campus was beautiful. Bruce made it through his presentation about gamma radiation without a hitch and received a respectable smattering of applause before moving on to his interview. Somehow, he channeled all of his nervous energy about Tony and Jen and everything else into appearing like a confident intellectual. A small part of him felt like he was watching himself from the outside and thinking, "Wow, who is this guy?" 

The committee gave him thoughtful feedback. They asked sharp questions and seemed genuinely excited about his research. He felt like the interview had gone _great_ , and Bruce never felt that way about interviews. Maybe it was his ambivalence? He still wasn't sure if he actually wanted this job or not, and maybe that knowledge let him relax? Whatever the reason, the smiles and handshakes he received seemed to indicate that he'd correctly assessed his performance. They liked him at Yale. And they had a big enough endowment that they might not be as worried about securing Department of Defense funding as some other schools.

They promised to be in touch, and now Bruce just had one more interview to get through: Jen was meeting him for dinner. She'd offered to make the trip out to New Haven so Bruce didn't have to add more travel onto his trip, and he'd made a reservation at an Italian restaurant near his hotel. If the meeting turned out to be a complete disaster, at least it wouldn't take him a long time to faceplant back in his bed.

Bruce got to the restaurant early and just as he arrived, she texted that her train was running late. But the hostess seated him and he sipped water and shredded a piece of bread between his fingers. He'd been there for about twenty minutes when she came flying in the front door. Everyone turned to look at the statuesque goddess who'd sprinted into the restaurant and almost crashed right into the hostess stand, and Bruce stood up and beamed. She ran over and wrapped him into a hug that lifted him right off the ground.

"Oh my god, Bruce, I'm so sorry I was late, it's _so_ good to see you!"

"You're so tall!" Bruce said, stupidly. "I mean, it's good to see you too. Sorry."

"Yeah, I guess I had my growth spurt after you...left." She sat down. "What are you drinking? Water? Do you not drink? Do you mind if I have some wine? I should probably start with water."

Bruce laughed. "It's okay. I drink...a little. We can get wine if you want."

She dipped a piece of bread in olive oil and devoured it. "Sorry, I'm training for a marathon and I just can't get enough carbs."

"Wow, that's great."

"I had to do _something_ with all my pent-up rage," she said cheerfully. "Turns out it's running."

"Pent-up rage?" Bruce asked carefully.

"Oh, you know, because of the patriarchy." Then she froze. "Oh, I mean, Bruce, not like—shit. Sorry. I just mean, being a lawyer and being a young woman...people say shit to me, you know? So I needed an outlet. Not like—not—"

Bruce held up his hand. "It's okay. I get it. I do yoga and meditation. Which doesn't really require a lot of carbo-loading, but that doesn't stop me." He smiled and ate one of his ripped-up pieces of bread. 

Jen flagged down the waitress to order a bottle of house red, then said to Bruce, "Okay. Good. I just, I know I already said this but really, Bruce, I'm so sorry."

Bruce nodded. "Jen, me too. Look, we were both kids, and I don't blame you for anything that happened."

She sighed. "I've worried about you for years, Bruce. I'm so glad you're doing okay."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I really didn't think...I thought I was doing the best thing, when I applied for legal emancipation. I thought I was saving your family from...well, it's good to see you."

"Oh, god, I'm so glad we're getting wine," Jen moaned. "You poor kid, you were only fifteen. I can't stand thinking about it without a drink."

"Sixteen, by the time...but yeah. Sometimes I look at my students and I think...well, never mind, Jen, that's probably enough about the past, right? Let's catch up on more recent events, okay?"

She smiled. "Okay. So how did your interview go? Are we gonna be neighbors?"

"I...I don't know. I mean, I think it did go pretty well, but I'm not sure if I'd accept. If they offered it to me. Which they haven't yet. They probably won't."

"Okay, first of all, believe in yourself! They probably _will_! So when they do, why wouldn't you accept? I mean, it's Yale, right? What could be better? Ooh, do you have an offer from Harvard?"

"No, no other offers...not even Yale, yet, for the record. It's just...I don't know. Tony lives in California, and he...and I...I think I'd like to stay with him."

She pursed her lips. "You guys haven't been together that long, though, have you? I mean, to base a big decision like this around?"

"I mean, no, we haven't, but it feels...serious."

"Well, Stark Industries has an office in New York, too. Maybe you could both move out east."

"Really? They do?"

She laughed. "Yeah, you can't miss it, it's a huge fuck-off skyscraper with STARK written on it in lights."

"Oh. Huh," Bruce said. He wondered why Tony hadn't mentioned that. "But anyway, I don't know. I mean, the interview did go well, but I'm on the verge of being black-balled by academia," he said, and gave a short-ish summary of his job woes.

"Ugh. I hear you. I ended up...well, let's say I quit before I was fired, from a big prestigious practice, contributing to those aforementioned rage issues. So now I have my own one-woman firm. Well, two women, I have a paralegal. But. Yeah."

"That's very cool, though," Bruce said. They paused to receive their wine, and then he asked what kind of cases she took. It didn't surprise him at all to hear that she had a record of taking on a lot of pro bono cases, that she fought for the little guy whenever she could. Bruce felt proud to know her—proud to be related to her—and disappointed when the evening ended. He thought it might be nice to live on the East Coast, to have another chance to get to know his cousin.

Bruce and Jen hugged and took a selfie—difficult to frame given their height difference—and promised to keep in touch. He texted Tony good night before falling asleep. In the morning, he saw that Tony hadn't replied. He thought about calling, but it was still pretty early on the West Coast. So he texted again before his flight took off, telling him that it was boarding on schedule and he should be home right on time, but if Tony was busy, Bruce could get an Uber from the airport. Then he put his phone on airplane mode and tried his best to nap on the way home.

When he got off the plane, he turned his phone back on and bit back a sigh when he had no reply from Tony. Of course, he knew Tony was very busy. And Bruce could afford to take an Uber. It was just that Tony had _said_ he would pick Bruce up. And...Bruce had missed him.

Bruce trudged outside and headed toward the rideshare wait line, when he heard a honk. He looked up and saw Tony's electric car, and behind the wheel, Tony. Bruce smiled and ran over to the car. "Hey," he said. "I thought you might be too busy to come."

Tony smiled back and handed him a single sunflower. "Too busy for you? Never. Welcome back, sunshine. How was your trip?"

Bruce took the flower and laughed. He briefly wondered if the flower had been Pepper or JARVIS's idea, but what did it matter? Tony was there for him. "It was pretty good," he said. "But I didn't see a single taco truck on Yale's campus."

Tony smiled the whole way home, and Bruce tried to focus on the sunny present rather than the growing turmoil he felt about the future.

* * *

*pterodactyl screech* Please look at this incredible rendering of Tony's new lockscreen that [sreppub](https://sreppub.tumblr.com/) drew!!!

[](https://frowl.org/heyjupiter/BreathFanart/sreppub-cinnamon.png)  
Art by [sreppub](https://sreppub.tumblr.com/) please don't repost but you can [reblog from here!](https://sreppub.tumblr.com/post/630292284546727936/commission-for-twentyghostsheyjupiter-for-her)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, _I guarantee_ a happy ending! Soon!


	24. Disaster Management

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for very small content warning.

The first thing Tony noticed was the music cutting out. "What gives, JARVIS?" he asked, without looking up from his holographic displays.

"It's time to leave for class," Bruce said, his voice quite near Tony's ear.

Tony whipped his head around. "Jesus, warn a guy."

"I tried, but you didn't notice."

Tony sighed and shook his head. He, perhaps, could benefit from getting more sleep. But it was _more_ important that he get this product market-ready as soon as possible. "Sorry," he said. "Hard to believe I'd get so wrapped up in my work that I wouldn't realize the cutest man on Earth was in my vicinity."

"Diego Luna isn't here, Tony," Bruce said patiently. "Now c'mon, we're going to be late."

Tony quickly washed up and got in the car. He was pleased that he'd been able to keep his Tuesday/Thursday schedule in the spring semester, and that it still lined up with Bruce's: he could minimize his trips to campus and still eat tacos with his adorable boyfriend. With help from his undoubtedly-underpaid teaching assistants, his classes were going smoothly, even if they still bored Tony. At least none of his students had dropped yet this semester.

His life was pretty good, except that he couldn't stop thinking about how tenuous it all was. Sure, Bruce had re-installed his car's back row of seats, which boosted Tony's spirits whenever he saw it in the garage, but what would happen at the end of the school year? Tony needed to get his company back, so he could stop them from making weapons and offer Bruce a real job, so Bruce wouldn't leave him and take a job literally all the way across the country. It was very simple, and it was also extremely complicated. 

Tony had been making some progress in therapy—his panic attacks had gotten much less frequent, and he was better at coping with them when they happened. (Especially if Bruce happened to be around.) He was also starting to unpack some unfortunate beliefs he seemed to have developed that tied his worth as a person to his net worth and general usefulness. (It was easy to trace those back to Howard Stark, but not so easy to get rid of them.) If he thought about it logically, he was pretty sure that Bruce would still love him even if Tony couldn't offer him a job with Stark Industries. But all the same, he didn't want to risk it. 

Besides, surely he must be close to getting his company back. His public favorability had been on the rise ever since he'd gone public with Bruce, and his food replicator was closer to market than ever. Meanwhile, Stane's single-mindedness (and, to be frank, average intelligence) was driving the company's stock lower and lower. He knew he'd have the board of directors back on his side just as soon as he had something tangible to show them—he just hoped it was before Yale made an offer to Bruce. He really didn't know what was taking them so long; if he'd ever interviewed Bruce, he would have offered him a job halfway through the conversation. But Yale was determined to keep Bruce dangling on the hook, weeks after his interview. 

Bruce squeezed Tony's hand goodbye as the time came for them to head down different hallways in the science center. Tony made it to his class on time, but not early. His TA Peter whispered, "Professor Stark, did you see my email?"

"Uh...no, sorry, let's talk after class?" Tony replied. Peter gave him a distressed look, but sometimes Peter just looked like that. Tony breezed through his lecture, took questions, and dismissed his students right on time. He was totally getting the hang of teaching. Peter lingered in the classroom, and Tony asked, "Okay, should I read my email or can you just tell me?"

"I—I thought it would be easier in writing," Peter said.

"Uh...okay," Tony said. He pulled out his phone.

Peter said, "Well, it's just, hard, but, I wanted to tell you that I'm...withdrawing."

Tony's head snapped up. "What? Why? What do you mean? Withdrawing from what?" He narrowed his eyes. "You're not on drugs, are you?"

"Oh my god! No! I'm not in _withdrawal_ from drugs, or whatever. At the end of the week, I'm withdraw _ing_ from _classes_ and going home. To New York."

Somehow, this was even more shocking. "What? Isn't this your last semester?"

"Well, after this semester I'll be ABD, but then I have to finish my dissertation," Peter said. "But it's just...pointless."

"Peter, you're one of the most brilliant students at this school, what are you talking about? You have to finish your degree." _Not to mention that Tony wasn't at all sure he could make it through half a semester without Peter's help._

"Why? You didn't."

Tony sighed. "I had a family industry to run, I didn't have time to get an advanced degree."

"Well, I have family too, and she needs my help."

Tony decided not to split hairs over the fact that Tony didn't have a _family_ , he had a _family industry_. "What's wrong?"

"It's my Aunt May, she's the only family I have left and she got laid off from her job, and...and I just need to go help her. I can't afford to stay in school. She might lose her apartment."

"What do you mean you can't afford it? Doesn't your TAship cover your tuition and everything?"

"I mean, yeah, but with the cost of housing out here...I don't really make any money, I'm just barely breaking even. If I go back to New York I'm sure I can get a job at OsCorp or something, and I can live with May and help her pay rent, and probably save some money and stuff."

Tony blinked. "So you're saying if you earned more money here as a TA, you could stay in school?"

Peter shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." 

"Then I'll write you a check."

Peter's eyes widened. "Oh, no, Professor Stark, I didn't mean—I wasn't trying to—you can't—"

"Of course I can, Peter," Tony said impatiently. "How much do you need?"

"I already talked to Dean Fury about withdrawing—"

"Surely he'd be happy to keep a student like you, though." Peter just stared at him. Tony frowned. "I mean, you want to stay, right? Like best case scenario, you get your PhD? Or do you really want to go back to New York?"

"I want to stay," Peter whispered. "But—"

"—Great, then let me pay you for your work." Peter still looked distressed, and Tony said, "Seriously, academia is a _scam_. If you worked for me in the private sector doing the same quality of work you do here, I'd pay you $100,000 a year, easy."

"Well, I don't need—that's—"

"That's what you deserve, Peter. Now let's go talk to Dean Fury about keeping you enrolled."

"I—I mean, I don't have an appointment. And he's probably at lunch."

 _Lunch!_ "One second," Tony said, and he texted apologies to Bruce. "Okay, let's go talk to him."

"Did you just...text him?"

"Hmm? No, but I'm sure he'll be open to hearing what I have to say," Tony said confidently. And sure enough, he stormed into the dean's office and got Peter reinstated as a grad student. He tried to complain about raising the grad students' pay and was firmly told that the grad students had their own contracts that had already been negotiated, and there wasn't anything the dean could do about it at this point. Tony wasn't sure he believed that, but he'd done what he needed to do for now. He got Peter's bank account information, called Pepper, and got a wire transfer set up. Peter thanked him about a thousand times until Tony waved him off and Peter went home in a daze. Sometimes it really was nice to be a billionaire.

Tony darted back up to his office to eat the tacos Bruce had left for him, in a take-out box with a heart drawn on top of it. Then he went to his afternoon class, where he had to look his other TA, Riri, in the face with the sinking realization that he'd just sent Peter $50,000—much more than Peter had asked for, but less than Tony thought he deserved—without thinking twice about it while Riri was just making the same pittance the rest of the grad students made. That wasn't fair. None of this was fair. _Shit_.

He explained his problem to Bruce on the way home. Bruce laughed and laughed. "Oh, honey, you're just way too rich," Bruce said, with less sympathy than Tony would have preferred.

"Well, I'm _trying_ to give my money away."

"If you want to make it even between your TAs, why don't you just make up a scholarship or something and award it to her?"

"Oh. Yeah. I could do that. But what about all the other TAs? And the adjuncts like you? This sucks."

"You could invite them all to come live with you. I think you have enough bedrooms."

Bruce seemed to be really enjoying Tony's pain. "I'm serious," Tony said.

"Okay," Bruce said. "Well, this country needs some really big, sweeping, systemic changes. You can't fix everything, no matter how rich you are. You could set up some kind of...foundation, maybe, or a lobbying group."

Tony squinted. He'd read similar ideas, back when he'd dedicated himself to reading every scrap of bad press his big donation to public school teachers had garnered. "Okay. Yeah. Let's do that."

Bruce laughed, an unhinged-sounding laugh. "Sure, let's," he said.

"I'm serious," Tony said.

"I know. I know you are. I love you so much," Bruce said, but it sounded suspiciously like he was humoring Tony. And if Tony's own boyfriend wouldn't take him seriously, who would?

At home, Tony called Pepper and started looking into his new project. He asked Bruce for help, but Bruce said he had work to do.

"This is work," Tony said.

"I mean real work. Like, grading. For my job that I already have," Bruce said. His tone was kind but his words stung a little.

"Right," Tony said. He spent a night burying himself in learning everything he could about higher education in America. It really did seem to be a broken system. But, he decided, first he needed to regain control of SI. Then he could set up a foundation on the side. He did set up the grant for Riri, though; to him, $50,000 was a negligible amount of money, but he couldn't stand the unfairness of having given it to only one of his TAs.

The rest of the week, Tony kept his nose to the grindstone. He was strung out and exhausted and seemingly no closer to having a marketable product, let alone ending world hunger. He wished Bruce would make more time to help him out. It seemed obvious to Tony that he was the one working on the real big picture stuff. How could grading college homework compare? Then, one night—Tony was reasonably sure it was Friday night—Bruce and JARVIS teamed up to get Tony's attention.

"Tony, please, why don't you take a break and have dinner with me?" 

Tony was on the verge of declining but his stomach growled. Bruce lifted his eyebrows and Tony said, "Yeah, okay, yeah."

Bruce smiled and put an arm around Tony's waist. He led him into the dining room, where the table had been set and a delicious cheese plate awaited them. They chatted and ate cheese, and then Bruce brought out a mushroom risotto, and then he said, "So, Tony, I wanted to talk to you…"

"Yale offered you the job?" Tony guessed, his blood running cold.

Bruce nodded, his eyes wary. "Tenure-track…."

Tony sighed. "Well, congratulations. You deserve it. I just...I thought I had more time."

"More time for what?"

Tony huffed. "More time to get control back of my company so I can offer you a real job, so you won't leave me!"

Bruce blinked. "Tony, is that why you've been working so hard?"

" _Obviously._ I mean, that, and I do want to end world hunger," Tony said seriously. 

"You know, Jen mentioned that SI had an office in New York," Bruce said. "Couldn't you work there?"

"I _can't_ , because SI is currently controlled by _Obadiah Stane_ ," Tony snapped.

"Oh. But...your name is on the building."

" _That's why I'm so mad about it,_ " Tony said, as patiently as he possibly could. He knew Bruce's history, he knew he couldn't yell at Bruce without frightening him. And then Bruce would _definitely_ leave him for fucking _Connecticut._

"Oh, Tony, I'm sorry, I've really tried to wrap my head about your company and everything but I just don't get it. I mean, you already have more money than you know what to do with. Literally, it seems like."

"I know! I know I do. I want to get control of my company so they'll stop making weapons, and so that I can reallocate divisions to support the nonprofit foundation I want to...found. I want my inventions to do good in the world. And I want you to come work with me!"

Bruce sighed. "That's great, Tony, but—"

"—I know, see, this is why I want to get it all sorted out ASAP, I know right now I don't really have anything tangible to offer you. But I _will_. I can put that in writing? We'll start something new. I can offer you a job working out of my garage? Like Apple!"

Bruce smiled. "Tony, the issue is that I love teaching. But the way the job market works...if I don't take a teaching job next year, it'll be next to impossible for me to ever get back in at any university. If I don't take this job, I'm not just giving up Yale. I'm giving up academia. And I need some time to think about that."

"What a terrible system," Tony said. "You'd think universities would _want_ to hire people who had some real world experience." They'd hired _him_ , after all. He suspected Bruce was overstating his case here. If nothing else, Tony was sure he could pull some strings and get Bruce an offer somewhere. But saying so might offend Bruce, who could be so sensitive sometimes.

Bruce shrugged. "Yeah, well, the system is undeniably fucked. That's why so many working parents—usually working mothers—end up leaving academia. They take a little time off for a kid and then they can't get back in. It sucks, and I know it sucks, but at the same time, I just don't know if I'm ready to completely give up academia forever." He twisted his hands together. "It's just, I've worked really hard for this, my whole adult life. It's all I've ever wanted, and if I turn my back on it without a clear sense of what's next...I don't know. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't teach. For a job, I mean. I don't want to end up an overeducated barista or something."

Tony thought about getting a bottle of wine from the wine cellar, but even without it, he was honestly a little punch-drunk on sleep deprivation at this point. His eyes lit up. "Wait, would it make you feel better if we were married?"

Bruce grew very still. "Did you just...propose?"

"No. No! When I propose it will be extremely romantic. I'm just gathering data. I want to know if that would help you decide. If, you know, if we had that kind of commitment."

Bruce took a deep breath. He said, "Please don't take this the wrong way—" Tony's heart sank, and Bruce continued, "I love you, Tony, but I just want to take a minute to think about it."

Tony made a grand sweeping gesture with his hand. "Think away," he said, hoping his voice didn't reveal how nauseous he suddenly felt. Of course he wasn't enough to convince Bruce to stay. Bruce could do much better. He'd go to Yale and live happily ever after and Tony would be stuck in his mansion drinking garbage water out of his stupid broken food replicator.

After approximately 700 hours of silence, Bruce said, "It's just that I haven't grown up with a very good idea of what marriage looks like."

Tony nodded. "Me, neither. But we've learned from that, haven't we? We can do a better job than our fathers did."

"I should hope so," Bruce said with a gentle smile. "But that's such a low bar."

"We can do a _way_ better job? I—look, if Yale is what's going to make you happy, then that's what I want. I want you to go to Yale. I want to come with you. If you'll have me. And we don't have to be married for that, but I thought it might make you feel more secure." He chewed his lip for a moment. "Or it might make me feel more secure? I just...I want to be with you. Always. And—and if we were married, it would make sure you had, uh, financial security? No matter what job you had. I mean, not that you couldn't—not that I wouldn't—if we weren't married, but...just to have it in writing, you know? That what's mine is yours, and you don't have to worry about...things."

Bruce's expression softened. "Sorry, Tony, I think I'm just hardwired to worry about...things."

Tony smiled. "I just want to make things easier for you. I just...I love you and I want to be with you."

"I want to be with you, too. That's—it's been so hard, lately, I've barely seen you. You've been working so much."

"But I was working so you could stay!" Bruce laughed, and Tony sighed. "I—I guess when you put it like that, maybe it was kind of a Gift of the Magi thing," he said. "I'm sorry. I just get really caught up in my work sometimes."

Bruce said, "I know. And speaking of work, I thought you said you couldn't work in New York."

Tony shrugged. "I wouldn't currently be welcome at the offices of SI in Stark Tower, but...I could get a new building. I could work from home. I could work from anywhere, including Connecticut. I don't have to be tied to this house, or to the LA office. What do you say? Should I have Pepper start real estate shopping?"

"Well...I don't need to respond to the Yale offer immediately," Bruce said. "I—I'd still like some more time to think."

"About Yale? Or about marriage?" Tony asked.

"Yes?"

Tony sighed. "Okay. Fair enough."

Bruce looked at Tony for a long moment before saying, "I do love you, Tony. I hope you don't doubt that. I just need...I just need to think."

Tony said, "Take your time, Brucie-bear. But for the record, if you asked me, I wouldn't think twice."

Bruce's face crumpled. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, Tony. I'm just...a more cautious person than you are. Please, you understand why, don't you?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah, I guess I do. Well...you know where to find me." He stood up from the table.

"Oh, are you going back out to the workshop already? I made chocolate mousse. And I—I really wish you'd come to bed? When was the last time you slept?"

Tony ignored Bruce's questions and said, "Take your time, Bruce." He went back out to the workshop, pouring his pain into his work. Eventually, he looked up and noticed a little dish of chocolate mousse had been placed at the edge of his work area. But Bruce wasn't there. Tony ate it—it was delicious—and put in a few more hours of work before finally passing out on the workshop couch. He awoke with a start—he thought Bruce had shaken him awake, but no one was there. "Bruce?"

JARVIS said, "Sir, we are currently experiencing an earthquake measuring 6.8 on the Richter scale."

Pretty big, but not The Big One. Tony's house was very earthquake-resilient. He wasn't too worried about any of the machinery in the workshop, it was all bolted down. But he asked, "Where's Bruce?"

"I have instructed Dr. Banner to remain calm and to stay in his bedroom, per earthquake protocols. However, he is not listening to me," JARVIS said, as the house continued to tremble. 

"Well, where is he?" Tony asked. "What time is it?''

"It is 5:25AM, and Dr. Banner is—" Bruce burst through the door to the workshop, his gait awkward as the floor shook under him. He stumbled to the couch and launched himself at Tony, pulling him into a hug. "Here," JARVIS concluded.

Bruce was breathing hard and fast, and Tony patted his shoulder. "It's okay, Bruce, just an earthquake."

"Should we go outside or something? In a shelter? Stand in a doorway? I'm from the Midwest, we don't have earthquakes," Bruce wailed. The couch shook under them.

"As I told you, Dr. Banner, the best protocol for earthquakes is to remain in place unless you are in an unstable or structurally damaged area," JARVIS said primly.

"We'll be okay in here, Brucie-bear," Tony said. "This house is designed for this."

Bruce was trembling against him, shaking more than the aftershocks of the quake. "I was scared, Tony, and you weren't there, and all I could think about—"

Tony's heart sank. Bruce was usually so calm, even when he was feeling anxious. It was worrisome to see him so openly emotional. "Shh, Bruce, it's okay, you're safe—"

"And you're okay?" Bruce asked urgently. 

"Just fine," Tony said. "Now that you're here. I'm a five. What about you?"

"I...uh...yeah, four, I guess, now that I found you...is it over?"

They waited a split second, enjoying the stillness. Then he kissed Bruce, and Bruce kissed him back. They kissed harder, and before long, they were both quaking from more than aftershocks. Afterwards, they both fell asleep, tangled together on the couch in the workshop.

Later in the morning, they checked in on the world outside their little bubble. Everyone they knew was physically okay, but almost everyone was without power.

Bruce said, "It's lucky we still have power."

"Oh, the house is off the grid. It gets its electricity from an arc reactor, and there's a backup generator for good measure."

Bruce frowned. "An arc reactor? What's that?"

"Oh, c'mon, you know. There's a miniature one in that food replicator prototype we've been working on. You know, the little round thing? Or, I dunno, I guess maybe I didn't spend as much time describing that part of it to you because I was sure it worked."

"Well, wait, how does it work?"

"It has a palladium core, it's basically just a very efficient fusion power source. It takes a lot of energy to transform molecules, you know." 

Bruce blinked at him. Tony added, "I first came up with it when I was designing this house. Here, JARVIS, pull up the specs." JARVIS obliged with a hologram.

Bruce, looking both very sleepy and very cute, asked, "Why don't you just sell _that_?"

"What?"

"You're looking for a product to sell, right? Couldn't it be like, a mini generator? People could have them for their houses...or hospitals? Or rural areas without power lines?"

"Oh my god," Tony whispered.

"Oh. Sorry, is that dumb?" Bruce asked with a yawn. "You probably already would have thought of that, huh?"

Tony kissed Bruce. "Thank you so much for thinking so highly of me. But no, that had not...actually occurred to me. I'd only been thinking of it as a means to an end, rather than an end itself. But you're right. Holy shit." Tony had intended to build a bigger version to power the main SI factory in LA but he'd gotten a little sidetracked from that project. If he'd managed to share it there, someone at SI probably would have suggested the same thing about their commercial viability. 

"'Cause also, I read an article in _The Economist_ last week about how the real issue of food insecurity isn't an actual lack of food, it's more to do with distribution and storage. And income inequality. Which makes sense if you think about it, given increasing agricultural yields...I mean the food replicator would be very cool if it worked and made...good food...but I think...I dunno. I don't know that it would totally solve the problem of world hunger the way you hoped it would." Bruce yawned again. "Also, people like cooking. Some people, anyway."

"Shit, Bruce, you're so fucking smart," Tony said. "This is why I need you to come work with me."

Bruce laughed. "You need real experts in your subject areas. I'm just a physicist."

"A genius physicist who reads everything and isn't afraid to tell me when I'm being an idiot," Tony corrected. "That is...incredibly valuable." Then he sighed. "Sorry, I'm not good at giving you time. Or space."

Bruce nestled his head against Tony's shoulder. "You're not an idiot. And I think I had all the time and space I needed."

Tony let his mind wander, brainstorming the best way to propose to Bruce. Maybe he could take him on another trip? It was only a few weeks until spring break. He'd already done the Northern Lights planetarium thing, and it was still too early to see the real Northern Lights. Well, the idea would come to him, he was sure. He knew he could come up with just the right gesture to show Bruce how much Tony loved him. He drifted back to sleep while making plans.

When he woke up, he was alone again. He found a note from Bruce, scrawled on a sheet of graph paper: _Thought you could use the sleep. I went to campus to help clean up. Call me when you wake up. Love you! <3 B_

Tony sighed. Bruce was so cute and so selfless and Tony missed him already. Tony picked up the phone. Bruce picked up on the second ring. "Hey, Tony, how are you?"

"Lonely," Tony said with a dramatic sigh.

"Sorry to leave you! I don't know if you saw it, but there was an email blast asking for volunteers to help clean up on campus from some bio experiments that were damaged in the earthquakes. I've been helping catch some escaped lab rats."

"Do you need help still? I can head out."

"Yeah, if you're up for it."

"Maybe we can go out for...lunch? Dinner? Afterward."

"Hmm. Maybe, but I think most of the restaurants around here are still without power. A lot of power lines came down in the earthquake."

"Oh, right, hmm. Okay, well, I'll see you soon and we'll figure something out." Tony changed into jeans and a T-shirt and called Pepper as he drove to campus, first ensuring that she was okay and then asking her to help coordinate some kind of meal delivery for people working on campus. It took him a little longer than usual to get to campus due to some road closures, and he definitely noticed some damaged buildings along the way. But once he got there, the science center looked structurally intact. It was one of the newest buildings on campus so it had the most high-tech earthquake resilient design. Still, he was surprised the emergency generator hadn't kicked in. Bruce was so right about the arc reactor's value in situations like this.

He wandered past small crews of students and staff and found Bruce, who was still patiently tracking down the last few lab rats. Tony demanded and received a kiss, then got to work side by side with his boyfriend. Fiance? No, not yet, but soon, maybe. His mind wandered as he worked, still trying to brainstorm the perfect way to propose to Bruce.

Bruce asked quietly, "Hey, are you okay? Sorry, I was so freaked out earlier I didn't really check in with you."

"Yeah, fine. I've lived here long enough, I'm pretty used to earthquakes."

Bruce nodded. "Okay. I just meant...I mean...I'm not sure what all of your triggers are?"

"I'm getting better!"

"I know, but...oh, I think I heard one!" Tony smiled as Bruce held out a sunflower seed, coaxing a rat toward its cage.

After Bruce had successfully caught the rat, Tony said, "It's mostly, like, blood...hospital smells...that kind of thing. I'm fine. I promise. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just got freaked out in the moment." Tony squeezed Bruce's hand and they got back to work.

Pepper texted him that she'd arranged for all available food trucks in the area to set up on the quad, offering free hot meals to anyone in need, courtesy of Tony. It was a perfect idea; the trucks had their own generators and would be ready to go anywhere. And they were delicious. She'd arranged for a campus-wide email alert to be sent, and word of mouth would help too.

Once all the lab rats were accounted for, Tony and Bruce went in search of the food trucks themselves. Tony was pleased to see that Scott and Luis were both physically fine and serving a long line of customers at the Con Carne truck. Scott's daughter Cassie was there too, with a little pop-up lemonade stand of her own. While Tony and Bruce waited in line, they held hands and Tony told Bruce about other earthquakes he'd lived through. Bruce told him with stories of tornadoes and other events that were just as foreign to Tony as earthquakes were to Bruce.

After they got their food, they found a spot on the quad, which had picked up something of a block party vibe as students fled their powerless dorms. They sat and ate their tacos, which seemed even more delicious than usual, somehow. When they finished eating, Bruce stood up to take their trash to an overflowing barrel, and when he came back, he deliberately went down on one knee in front of Tony. Tony could tell that they'd gathered the attention of people surrounding them, but Bruce ignored them, so Tony did too. 

Bruce said, "Tony, I—I guess maybe this wasn't a very big earthquake by California standards, but it scared me. And it made me realize that the only thing that I couldn't live without...is you. And I know, um...well, thank you for being patient with me, and for everything you've given me, and I'm sorry I didn't have time to get anything nicer, but I just couldn't wait any longer to ask if you'd marry me?" He opened his hand and offered a plastic ring with Hello Kitty's expressionless face on it. Tony blinked at the ring and Bruce said, with an adorably sheepish look, "Cassie sold this to me for a dollar. It's just—just temporary."

Tony grinned and took the ring. He slid it over the tip of his pinkie finger, since it wouldn't fit over his ring finger. "No, I'm gonna wear it forever. Yes, Bruce, of course you knew I'd say yes, and this is cheating because I already proposed."

Around them, students clapped and cheered.

Bruce said smugly, "No, you explicitly said that wasn't a proposal."

"Well—okay—but, uh, you know like, fifty students just took pictures of this."

"Good, I hope they can pay off their student loans with them." Bruce leaned forward and kissed Tony, who was still sitting on the grass.

Tony kissed him back and then said, "Uh, hey, let's get out of here before these photos get R-rated. Although those would be super fucking valuable."

Bruce laughed and helped pull Tony to his feet. "Wait, we have to tell Cassie, first. I promised her." They made their way through the crowd, back to Cassie's little lemonade stand. 

Bruce crouched down and said, "Hey, Cassie, thanks for the ring."

"Did he say yes?" she asked.

Tony held up his left hand. "I did. But I wouldn't have if he hadn't given me such a beautiful ring."

Bruce snorted. Cassie said, "I should have charged you five dollars."

"At least," Tony agreed. He pulled a $20 bill out of his pocket and put it in her tip jar.

She smiled. Pronouncing each syllable with care, she said, "Congratulations!"

From the food truck, they heard Scott call, "Wait, are you guys engaged?! Congratulations!"

"Yeah, that's great," Luis said. "I love _love_."

"Thanks," Bruce said.

"If you want, I can make lemonade for your wedding," Cassie said. 

"We will keep that in mind," Tony said.

"Good hustle, honey," Scott said.

"Scotty, there's a really long line," Luis said.

"Right, sorry. Congrats guys, see you for lunch on Tuesday I hope!" Scott said.

Bruce and Tony waved and left campus as quickly as they could. As they walked, Tony asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Five. Hundred," Bruce said.

Tony laughed and agreed, and then he dared to ask, "So...does this mean you're not taking the job offer from Yale? Or does it mean we're moving to Connecticut? Because I'm in either way."

"Oh...turns out, I know this great guy who has more money than he knows what to do with, so I'm going to stay here and help him spend it at his new foundation to advocate for educational equity. Besides...it gets so cold in Connecticut."

Tony beamed, and Bruce beamed back, and when they got home, they went straight to bed, although for once, neither of them was at all tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warning** : There's an earthquake in this chapter. I don't know if that's anything to warn for but I'll mention it. Don't worry, though, everyone is fine...just a little _shaken_ up. Sorry. So sorry for the pun. Thanks for reading.
> 
> PS: After college I worked at a school in San Francisco for a short while and when I was told that it was recommended to keep an extra set of clothes there as part of earthquake preparedness I lost it. Earthquakes?! In my workplace?? Terrifying. And yet my coworkers were all very alarmed to hear that the tornado drills of my Midwestern childhood involved sitting in the hallway with a textbook over my head. It just goes to show you, we fear the natural disasters we do not know.
> 
> Anyway, stay safe and brace yourselves for the final chapter! Thanks for reading up to this point.


	25. Summer Session

Bruce was almost finished packing up his dreary basement office when Amadeus stuck his head in the open door. "Hey, Dr. Banner!"

"Oh, hey, Amadeus. Glad you dropped by. Hey, do you want some ramen?" Bruce held up half a carton of soup packets. "I don't think they expire for about another twenty years."

Amadeus grinned. "Sure, I guess since you're gonna be a billionaire now, you won't be eating ramen anymore?"

"Yeah, I'm actually exclusively on a gold flake diet now," Bruce said. "I think I'm gonna get scurvy, though."

Amadeus laughed and took the box. "An orange a day will keep the doctor away. Anyway, I, uh, just wanted to say, it's been great working for you."

"It's been great working _with_ you," Bruce said. "But I don't think we're done working together."

"Oh?"

"We haven't announced everything to the public yet, but I'm going to be working with a new foundation to advocate for higher education reform."

"Oh wow, that sounds cool. So you're sticking around town then?"

"Long term, yeah," Bruce agreed. "Part of my job will involve mentoring first-generation college students, so I'll be on campus sometimes. But I'm doing some traveling over the summer. And you're doing an independent study with Dr. Foster this summer?"

"Yeah, thanks again for the letter of recommendation."

"Of course, any time." Bruce offered a handshake, and Amadeus tucked the box of ramen under his arm to accept. "Keep in touch!"

"Will do. I'm already following Professor Stark on Instagram."

Bruce laughed. "He's not a professor anymore, you can just call him Tony. And really, you should call me Bruce."

"Cool," Amadeus said. "Well, uh...have a good summer, Bruce!"

"You, too, Amadeus. I'll see you in the fall."

Bruce carefully put the small cactus Pepper had given him for his birthday on the top of his box of possessions before turning the lights out in his former office. He turned in his keys and laptop to the department administrative office. Then he stopped up at Tony's office, where Tony was flopped on his couch staring at his phone. Other than the couch, Tony had never really kept many personal effects in his office, so he didn't have much to clean up. "I got tacos," he said.

"You're the best," Bruce replied.

"I know," Tony agreed smugly.

They ate one last lunch in Tony's office. "Remember our first lunch together?" Bruce asked.

"How could I forget?" Tony asked.

"You were so charming."

"And yet you were so resistant to being charmed by me."

They smiled at each other as they ate their tacos and reminisced about Bruce's most unexpected academic year. Just after they finished, Tony's TA Peter turned up with his roommate Ned. 

"Hey, guys," Tony said. "Are you two going to be okay to carry the couch?"

"I've been working out!" Peter said. 

"And I borrowed this dolly from one of the custodians," a young woman said, appearing behind them with the flat cart.

"You're brilliant, MJ," Peter said. "And thanks for this couch, Professor Stark."

"It's really going to tie the living room together," Ned said.

"Thanks for taking it off my hands," Tony said, with a dismissive wave. "And call me Tony already!"

The three grad students loaded up Tony's couch. Tony said, "Peter, when are you heading back to New York?"

"Oh, tomorrow morning, early. I got a red eye flight."

Tony sighed. "Peter, you know your SI internship covers your travel, even if you leave at a reasonable hour."

Peter shrugged. "Well, I figured, we're probably going to be up late tonight anyway, so, might as well…"

"Alright," Tony said, holding up his hand, presumably to prevent further details about what Peter and his friends would be staying up late doing. "Well, safe travels, kid. I'm sure I'll see you in New York this summer."

Peter brightened. "Awesome. And, uh, congratulations! I saw the news about SI."

"Thanks," Tony said.

"I mean, it was totally wack that it was still called Stark Industries and you didn't even work there."

"Yeah."

"And I think your arc reactors are _way_ cooler than weapons anyway."

"Definitely," Bruce agreed. "They're already saving a lot of lives in disaster relief areas."

"And I bet your work on your internship is going to make them even better," Tony said.

Peter blushed, shrugged and said, "Okay, well...yeah! Maybe! I hope! Um, see you around, then, Prof—um, Tony!" He offered Tony a handshake, and Tony smiled and pulled him into a hug. Peter grinned and then he and his friends took the couch and disappeared into the chaos of campus at the end of the school year.

After they left, Tony locked up the office and went to turn in his keys.

"I'm gonna miss this place," Bruce said.

"You'll be back on campus, with the foundation."

"Yeah. It just won't be the same."

"It'll be _better_ ," Tony said.

"That's probably true. I'll miss that couch, though." 

"We can get another couch. It'll probably make sense to have an office near campus, to hold meetings with students."

Bruce nodded. Tony added, "But let's go home and worry about that later."

Back home, Bruce put his box of office accoutrements in his home office and double-checked his backpack. He stuck his head in their shared bedroom and heard Tony on the phone. "Yes, I _know_ I made you CEO, I—okay, I was just checking. …Okay, sure, I will, I'm sure he'll say hi back… Yes, you're the best, Pepper, bye."

"Pepper says hi," he said. "I told her you'd say hi back."

Bruce grinned. "I would."

"Anyway, she has everything under control, obviously. Are you ready to go?"

"Absolutely."

Since Bruce had officially ended his teaching career, and Tony had regained control of his company only to turn it over to Pepper, they both suddenly had some time on their hands. Before long, Tony would get back to work as chief engineer at SI—developing the innovations he loved to work on without having to deal with the board of directors—and Bruce would get to mentor first generation college students and help organize underpaid grad students and adjuncts, and anything else that he deemed fell within the purview of the Rebecca Drake Foundation. He'd also have the freedom and the resources to pursue his research as he saw fit, without any deadlines or expectations placed upon him.

But first, they were going to take a real road trip together. It was partly a work trip: they planned to stop at a number of schools to interview students for scholarships, internships, fellowships, and any other ships they could think of. They wanted the Drake Foundation to be national, even international, and they'd need to assemble a good team to make that a reality.

Instead of flying from school to school, they were going to drive Tony's environmentally-friendly electric car. The arc reactor meant they wouldn't even need to stop to charge it. They'd planned a leisurely route, with plans to stop at dozens of parks and attractions along the way. They'd see National Parks like Yosemite, Death Valley, and the Grand Canyon. They couldn't drive to New Zealand for the Lord of the Rings pilgrimage of Bruce's dreams, but they had some other nerdy stops in mind, like Riverside, Iowa—the future birthplace of James T. Kirk. In Ohio, they'd stop at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for Tony to geek out over his favorite bands. They'd keep heading east to DC to meet up with Rhodey, then up to Philadelphia to see Rhodey's family, to New York to see Jen. They'd head west to Alaska to see the Northern Lights, and finally back home to California. They were going to visit their mothers' graves together. They were going to see things Bruce never could have afforded to see, at a pace Tony never could have afforded to take. And they were going to go together.

They'd been planning the trip for weeks, and yet Bruce was still surprised when they finally made it to Alaska and Tony went down on one knee under the Northern Lights—the real Northern Lights, which were even more beautiful that Bruce had imagined, and somehow still not as stunning as Tony's smile.

Tony pulled out a sleek gold ring and said, smugly, "I told you it would be romantic when I proposed."

"Mm-hmm, nothing more romantic than an 'I told you so,'" Bruce said with a grin.

"I mean, you know what you're getting into by now, right?" Tony asked. "Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Bruce, I love you madly, my life has gotten immeasurably better now that you're in it, and if I still love you after being in the car with you for 7,000 miles, I don't know what would possibly change my mind. I hope it hasn't changed your mind? But just to check...will you marry me?"

"Tony, obviously, yes, I thought we were already engaged. I already proposed to you," Bruce said, but he kissed Tony and took the ring.

"Yeah, but I can't wear the ring you gave me on the right finger. I need to make sure everyone knows we're off the market."

Bruce smiled. "Yup. Closed for business. All assets liquidated."

"That really shouldn't sound sexy," Tony mused. "And yet here we are."

"Here we are," Bruce agreed. He lay back on the blanket they were sitting on and watched the aurora borealis dancing above them. Tony curled up on his chest. "Breathtaking," Bruce said, but he was looking down at Tony's face.

* * *

Since a picture is worth a thousand words, rather than write Bruce and Tony's road trip in detail, I commissioned some great artists to draw some of their stops along the way. Make sure to check out these artists' pages; they've all done other awesome Marvel fan art! Please don't repost these elsewhere.

[ ](https://frowl.org/heyjupiter/BreathFanart/GrandCanyonTifftac.png)

[The Grand Canyon](https://www.nps.gov/grca/index.htm) by [Tifftac](https://tifftac.tumblr.com/) ([Tumblr post here](https://tifftac.tumblr.com/post/630278749118709760/i-had-the-absolute-pleasure-to-be-commissioned-by))

* * *

[ ](https://frowl.org/heyjupiter/BreathFanart/RiversidePixlezq.jpg)

[Riverside, Iowa](https://www.roadsideamerica.com/story/2081) by [PixlezQ](https://pixlezq.tumblr.com/)

* * *

[ ](https://frowl.org/heyjupiter/BreathFanart/RRHOFPainting-the-universe-art.png)

[The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame](https://www.rockhall.com/) by [painting-the-universe-art](https://painting-the-universe-art.tumblr.com/) ([Tumblr post here)](https://painting-the-universe-art.tumblr.com/post/630290394519945216/rock-and-roll-hall-of-fame-cleveland-ohio)

* * *

[ ](https://frowl.org/heyjupiter/BreathFanart/DC-sreppub.png)

[The Washington Monument](https://www.nps.gov/wamo/index.htm) by [sreppub](https://sreppub.tumblr.com/) ([Tumblr post here](https://sreppub.tumblr.com/post/630292284546727936/commission-for-twentyghostsheyjupiter-for-her))

* * *

[Times Square](https://www.timessquarenyc.org/) by [dromaeocore](https://dromaeocore.tumblr.com/)

* * *

[](https://frowl.org/heyjupiter/BreathFanart/Frecher-northern-lights.png)

[The Northern Lights](https://www.travelalaska.com/Things-To-Do/Winter-Activities/NorthernLightsViewing.aspx) by [looniefrechie](https://looneyfrechie.tumblr.com/)

* * *

([The full roadtrip set on Tumblr](https://twentyghosts.tumblr.com/post/630344372967391232/i-finished-posting-my-fic-never-a-breath-you-can))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over! Thanks to everyone for reading this, especially those of you who left such lovely comments ♥ Writing this in pandemic lockdown was very therapeutic wish fulfillment for me, and it's been a great bonus to hear that others have enjoyed it too. 
> 
> Thanks again to [Tifftac](https://tifftac.tumblr.com/), [PixlezQ](https://pixlezq.tumblr.com/), [painting-the-universe-art](https://painting-the-universe-art.tumblr.com/), [sreppub](https://sreppub.tumblr.com/), [dromaeocore](https://dromaeocore.tumblr.com/), and [looniefrechie](https://looneyfrechie.tumblr.com/) for their lovely pieces of art. I'm so glad I spent the money I saved by not leaving the house on getting these talented folks to bring this story to life!
> 
> Also, I'm on Tumblr myself as [twentyghosts](https://twentyghosts.tumblr.com/). Come say over there, if you'd like!


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